RIP

Chapter 1

The pulsating hum of a mobile phone awoke April from her afternoon nap. Motionless in her curled-up position on the sofa, she opened her eyes and peered out from beneath the blanket.

She looked at the single candle still glowing on her coffee table. With a tired sigh she rolled her rounded, pregnant body onto her side and picked up the phone.

‘Hello,’ she said, her voice as quiet as a mouse.

‘Are you alone?’ a shaky voice whispered.

It was Aunty Elspeth. April struggled to sit up.

‘Why?’ April’s voice shook with a pale tremor. Something was wrong. Elspeth only called when something bad happened.

‘The police are on their way.’

There was a deathly silence.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘It’s the boys ...’ April could hear a crack in Elspeth’s tone. ‘They’re both dead.’

April dropped the phone and stared at the flickering candle. Its shadow danced gaily on the plum sheen wall as if nothing had happened.

Chapter 2

Heavily pregnant, April stood silent and alone in her younger brother’s home. He must have been here just hours earlier for his warmth was still present. Conscious of his spirit, she tiptoed cautiously across the hall, not wanting to dissipate his ebbing vibe any faster.

Quiet radio chatter trickled into the hallway from the kitchen. Through the arch in the wall April could see her brother’s laptop open on the living room table. An inviting assortment of plush cushions drew her in to sit comfortably and recall happy times of ‘chilling out’ with her brother in this very room, drinking, laughing and being joyous. Stretching out across the sofa, she remembered how she would clutch the cushions against her belly, the soft fabric tickling her skin as she listened to poetic punk beats bursting from the stereo.

Satin cushions now lay scattered about the floor in disarray. April picked one up. There was a fissure in the material together with the imprint of teeth marks. How odd, she thought, gently placing the cushion back on the sofa, stroking it lovingly, all the while thinking of her sibling.

Her eyes lifted to the striking paintings of human form that lined the wall in front of her, the subjects revelling in their own beauty as they paraded flirtatious sexual intention before all who entered the room. Luxurious sheer drapes entwined with gold thread hung loftily from the ceiling, their gentle sway resembling sails billowing from fleet masts.

She looked to where candle wax had seeped into the deep varnish of the large coffee table. A respectful quietus hung in the air.

April stood up and began to pace the room. Why had this terrible thing happened? April knew her brother was troubled but this was just too awful. Why had he not told her of his inner turmoil? She could have done something to help; but April knew why he had not uttered his fears and instead remained silent; he would not have wanted to burden her.

Raising her hands to her head, she squeezed at her temples. Her skull was pounding. In all honesty she had thought everything would be okay. If only she had been there, if only she could have stopped this horror. He had had so much to live for.

Why had he chosen to blow it all away?

‘Why?’ she sobbed openly, her hands moving to clasp at her neck as she choked out a desperate moan. She sat down, her spine hot and tingling.

April’s mind whirred and chattered in its want for reason. What of her elder brother’s involvement in all of this? In almost a decade she had not seen or heard from him. Admittedly there had never been any love lost between them; but now after all this time he had taken to his grave all motive for the family divide. April needed to know why this tragedy had happened; she wanted to have been able to say goodbye. Now with that chance gone she had to live with the unknowing forever.

With a hopeless sigh she lifted herself awkwardly from the sofa and waddled over to the window to look out at the winter garden below.

It was sparse; the autumn radiance that had previously graced it was now a weakened memory. The miniature trees lining the front picket fence gave an aura of peaceful acceptance as they respectfully stood side by side embracing the cold. April felt a soft touch on her arm. She jumped and turned in time to see a delicate leaf falling from the fig tree beside her. It was her brother’s favourite plant. Suddenly April felt angry; he should be here now, alive and breathing. Then she stopped, frozen to the spot. For a fleeting moment she thought she glimpsed his ghost there in the room in front of her, a white aura burning brightly... but as swift as it appeared it vanished. She began to weep softly, the weight of her tears racking her small frame. She slumped in surrender to let the hot tears flow. When there were no more she sat upright and rubbed harshly at her face, the damp stickiness of her thick mascara producing rings of desperate blackness around her eyes.

April stared vacantly into the humming computer screen in front of her. Seconds passed before her swollen eyes focused. Her pupils dilated and then she blinked rapidly. Straight ahead was something that looked like a waving hand. Dipping at the waist April leant forward to take a closer look. A small desktop icon was waving furiously, swinging like a manic pendulum, back and forth, back and forth. April scowled. She had little time for technology and avoided it as much as possible. However, this tiny graphic had now caught her curiosity and she felt obliged to find out why.

Out of the blue she remembered the times she had sat watching her brother working diligently in this very same spot. The mouse which he had directed so deftly was hovering feverishly beneath her fingers. With quivering flesh April touched it. Something on the screen moved causing her to jolt. She looked around in expectation of someone watching. The air was still; the atmosphere of the room cooling down. Once again April placed her hand on the mouse. An arrow began moving in time to her fluctuating fingers; with tighter grip she directed the arrow and clicked. Nothing happened. She wrinkled her nose and took a closer look, first at the keyboard then at the screen, and finally at the mouse. Twice more she clicked.

A page sprang to life. Instantaneously a myriad of graphics fell into specific points as a time bar charted the progress beat by beat. It pulsed with April’s heart. Feeling an onset of panic she sat back to take a breath. A sense of impending doom washed over her. She thought first of her unborn child as she brushed her hand uneasily over her belly. Her ‘fear’ state of mind was brief. She’d had therapy. The need to understand her panic attacks had pushed her to seek help. Her therapist had always said that under the onslaught of panic it was best to turn one’s attention to the breath, to observe it carefully and then, without trying too hard to become absorbed in it you could slow it down until calm was restored.

April had been given the advice that ‘fear was a useless emotion’ and repeating the words like a mantra, over and over, would help remedy the clench of anxiety.

April could still hear the counsellor’s deep-throated unruffled voice reverberating in her head. ‘Remain strong and positive at all times and in all situations.’

She had to stay calm. With new life engaging inside her it would do the baby more harm than good if she panicked. April’s willowy understanding was that for every action there was a reaction. It was the rule of Karma, the Law of the Universe. Every action, every feeling, even from the outset of intention, no matter how big or small, it would all pass on to her child and would set the blueprint for its development.

April shivered. All that she was she would become again through this new entity. Everything she lived and breathed would make impact. It was imperative to hold on to her sanity, something so fragile, so easily lost. Shocks to her system had been frequent of late and her equilibrium was in a see-saw state of unrest. Silently, she recited her mantra, willing herself to keep a grip.

April wished with all her heart for a return to her childhood of magic and wonder. It had been her Avalon. But it had all shattered far too quickly and she wanted to bury her pained heart from the cruel world. She didn’t want to endure sadness. If she could wish for one thing it would be a Utopian life, richly beautiful, calm and serene. As it stood now, she was threatened by a harsh ugly reality.

‘The emotionally strong prosper,’ had been the words of her brother.

Feeling deflated she gazed at the screen. A voice whispered gently.

‘April, I need your help’.

‘I’m here,’ she replied breathlessly.

‘I need you to ...’ her brother’s voice was severed, the sound of breaking glass cutting jaggedly at the stillness.

Chapter 3

Drizzling rain swept the landscape. The green rolling hills were sodden with water. Piles of rubbish discarded by the ignorant had built up to mar the scenery. On the horizon there was a break in the clouds and a shaft of light pierced the atmosphere to highlight both the beauty and the ugliness of the day.

Justin turned his face away from the window. He sprawled gracelessly on his bed. In a desperate mood, alone and unhappy, he realised there was nobody in the world to love and comfort him, and that hurt.

There was little to do other than notice how suffocating the lowly bed-sit was. Drab blue walls drew in close to his head, feet and hands. There were at least another two hundred human beings living the same pointless existence in the blocks above, beside and below him. Justin imagined feeling their negative vibrations suppressing him, squeezing the last positive breaths out of him. He was being unduly punished.

This was a hell-hole rat-run he lived in, a place where the hapless were thrown when luck had run out. All wretched sods together left to rot in abandonment.

Justin’s brain hurt. It was fucking wrong. The cards he had been dealt were twisted and unfair. Why did they want to destroy him? Everyone he loved and trusted, where were they now? It seemed to him like his defeat was their victory. He imagined them rejoicing. They must be celebrating, because they certainly weren’t coming to help. By a merciless twist of fate he had landed face down in the gutter and it looked like he was there to stay.

Agitated, his mind twitched as he attempted to analyse how he had come to lose everything. What had he done so wrong? What had happened? He knew what had happened; he had been ruined by someone who should have supposedly loved him. In one bleak abysmal moment, all his future dreams had shattered into millions of irreparable fragments. Now he struggled, abandoning all hope of ever pulling them back together.

The torment curdled his brain. In a fit of vile recognition he thrashed his arms and legs aimlessly in the air. Like a deranged imbecile he began rolling over and over on the cheap nasty mattress. Excruciating injustice was burning his soul. His life had rapidly degenerated as he slipped mercilessly from favour.

Only a few months earlier Justin had lived in luxury as an upright man of the community, someone whom people had appreciated and respected – a photographer associated with bringing fond happy memories to people. He took enigmatic pictures of families and babies, capturing in print moments of love and tenderness. His images had documented the intricacies of growth. He had been a sharp and witty man who brought fun and laughter to friends and colleagues. People had called him ‘Mr Sunshine’.

Justin had had to grow accustomed to adversity and envy in his youth and he had overcome many obstacles. His strength and determination had always overruled and led him to prosper. But lurking in dark corners of somebody else’s mind, jealousy spawned.

One night after working late Justin had closed the shop and decided to go for a pint at the local pub. He found a quiet table in the corner and drank thirstily. The insurance clerk from across the square came in, ordered a pint and took a quick glance around the room. He sighted Justin and raised his glass in recognition.

‘You want one,’ he mouthed.

Justin nodded appreciatively. He recognised the clerk. His name was Kenny Dent. He’d photographed his sister and her baby. They were a nice family.

Kenny made his way over. Polite conversation rattled to and fro before Justin ordered more drinks. By the next couple of rounds sticky blue and red shots were chasing the beers. Farcical jokes sprang to life and a spur of the moment camaraderie developed.

On hearing the raucous laughter from these two lads at the corner table, a couple of local girls decided to present themselves.

‘You two are sure having fun?’ giggled the blonde.

Justin and Kenny looked at each other, smiled broadly and welcomed the girls to join them. The girls giggled provocatively and fluttered their eyelashes. They unashamedly revealed cleavage and thigh and, as the booze flowed, they grew evermore riotous.

Usually veering clear of gratifying indulgences, this was an irregular occurrence for Justin. He felt it good to remain ‘clean’ and trouble free. But this time he figured that, after having worked like a dog for a solid ten days, it was time for fun and frolic. A screaming stream of babies had tested his patience and this was as good a way as any for him to let off steam.

Although a busy day lay ahead, Justin was having fun. His tireless discipline momentarily lapsed so he could engage in some revelry. He knew the responsible thing to do was to go home to bed early but the wicked drunken sprite crouched on his shoulder was whispering, ‘you can sleep when you’re dead’.

The drunken group continued with their unruly banter. All concept of good behaviour was lost as they indulged in sexual innuendo. The highlight of the night came with the brazen brunette clambering onto the table and writhing to ‘Cosmic Girl’, her sling-back shoes leading the eye up stocking-clad legs shamelessly displayed for admiration. Justin pulled a twenty-pound note from his trouser pocket and with gesticulated bravado he pushed it into the femme’s blouse as she bent forward. She licked the air in front of him. It was unfettered fun.

But everything good must come to an end and at just past three o’clock in the morning the bleary-eyed revellers were ushered out of the warmth of the snug into the chilly air. The four huddled together trying to gain warmth and stability from each other.

Kenny drunkenly kissed each girl before standing back to watch as they bundled into the waiting taxi. Stepping back to stand shoulder to shoulder the men watched as the women piled themselves into the back seat of the cab. Arms and legs twisted awkwardly amidst intoxicated screams of laughter. Finally the door was shut and the car pulled off. With mouths agape Justin and Kenny looked at each other – from the back seat of the vehicle the girls had turned to flash their boobs.

Kenny turned and scratched his head before cramming his hands into his trouser pockets.

‘You in tomorrow?’ Justin asked drunkenly.

‘Yesh,’ Kenny slurred in response.

‘Good luck with the hangover then,’ Justin sniggered.

Kenny nodded appreciatively. Justin slapped him comfortingly on the shoulder and then stood back to watch as he stumbled away hazardously uphill.

Justin’s head swam in alcohol as the deep purple morning sky enveloped him. He looked up and caught a glimpse of glittering stars suspended in bejewelled animation. It was an eloquent and elegant sky and he lingered on the thought that if it were to be the last thing he ever saw he would be a happy man.

Justin shook his head to try and clear the fuzzy brain cloud descending. The mix of alcohol and brisk air was testing his balance and coordination. Slowly he made his way to his vehicle which was parked at the far wall of the car park. He needed his house keys. Justin recognized not to drive. Responsibility had set in and he knew better than to push his luck. He would take a taxi home and return to the studio after a long sleep and a good fried breakfast.

In his befuddled state Justin unlocked the car door, reached in and grabbed the keys. With an awkward step back he slammed the door and locked it. Turning to head off in the same direction as he had come, he jumped in his skin as standing before him was a stranger in a baseball cap. Apprehensively Justin looked at the person in front of him, and then it slowly became clear; he recognised the face. It was his brother. For the longest of moments, time seemingly stood still. Questions quietly formed in Justin's head. The situation was slowing down. Why was his brother here? Why was he holding a baseball bat? They hated each other. Justin preferred to distance himself. Ever since Justin had found his perfect life, Jo had tried to ruin it.

With speed and accuracy of projectiles the rain of blows to his head and upper body took less than a few seconds. Justin felt an electric shock pierce his brain and, like a light switch flicking off, everything went dark.

How long he had lain on the damp morning floor he didn’t know but as he came round the residue of sticky congealed blood rested on his lips. His head splintered amongst thumping pain; all sensation in his left arm had gone. The weight of his unconscious torso must have deadened the limb. He tentatively moved his other hand to touch the nape of his neck. It felt sticky. He couldn’t see properly, both eyelids swollen and half closed. Justin tried to look up but could see no further than ground level. Bewildered, he pulled himself into a sitting position, the pain in his shoulder unrelenting. Dazed and confounded, he tried hard to gain mental cohesion.

It took several breaths before he was able to pull himself to his knees and then to his feet, his balance shifting precariously. Uneasily, Justin stood as straight as he could before limping back to the relative safety of his studio.