I Hear You Calling Read online

  Silently, I reached into my coat pocket and took out my mobile phone. As I flipped it open Jim reached out and touched my arm. I flinched.

  ‘OK love, no need for that.’ he said, in a voice made to sound soothing. He always had that way of making me sound hysterical when I felt I was being reasonable. ‘If you want me to go I will. I just worry about you that’s all.’

  For a couple of seconds I felt myself being drawn into a warm cocoon of being cared for and had to sharply remind myself that I could not believe that line any more.

  ‘So why don’t you tell me where you are going so that someone knows where you are in case of an emergency?’

  ‘My sister knows exactly where I will be,’ I tried to make my voice sound cold.

  ‘Now, I will give you 30 seconds to get your backside off my drive before I make this 999 call.’

  ‘I always did love you best when you were angry,’ Jim called over his shoulder as he began to walk away.

  All of my insides were shaking as I turned the ignition key half an hour later. Barney was settled into his cage in the tail end of the car, I knew from past experience that he would be gently snoring within the next half hour.

  All along the motorway I was in turmoil; the morning’s exchange had opened the locked gate to memories I would rather forget. Jim being nice, bringing me breakfast in bed on a Sunday morning all laid out on a tray with a single rose in a bud vase. Jim playing the fool and making me laugh hysterically with his silly antics. Jim stroking my hair back from my face and rubbing my back as I was being sick following a dodgy curry. Jim playing the perfect host to our guests so that they all believed he was the nicest guy in the world.

  Jim tearing up my photo album because I had a couple of pictures of ex boyfriends in there, even though he knew it also contained the only photo’s I had of my dead parents. Jim throwing his dinner at the wall because he said that I couldn’t even make good mash potatoes. Jim raising his eyebrows and telling me not to try to be clever and above myself when I told him that I got a promotion. Jim mocking my southern accent and accusing me of trying to be “posh.” Jim refusing to let me sleep, even though I was exhausted, because he didn’t feel tired. Jim making nasty and malicious comments about my sister behind her back, although to her face he was sweetness and light. Jim telling me that it was a good job he loved me so much because no one else would ever put up with me and my awful ways and bad cooking.

  The deafening blast of an angry car horn pulled me back to my senses. I had started to veer out across the lane and narrowly missed causing a collision. The noise and sudden swerve of the car woke Barney and he made a low whining noise, reminding me that he probably needed a toilet stop. I drove off the motorway at the next services and stood crying in the car park while Barney emptied his bladder on the grass verge.

  The holiday cottage was just as I had hoped it would be. Although it was very small it had room for everything I needed and we spent most of our days exploring. Barney found no end of lakes to dip into and show off his Retriever swimming style and I took loads of photos.

  I didn’t cook a single thing all week; at about six each evening we walked to the nearby pub. I chose from the menu and Jason, the landlord, always managed to find an interestingly juicy bone for Barney. Bliss for both of us. And I gave no thought at all to Jim, well, hardly any. There was that last moment every night, just before I dropped into sleep, when he reared his head and danced around my last thought.

  Driving home I sang along to Elvis and Freddie Mercury CD’s, my heroes. My ultimate hero had always been Superman – the Christopher Reeve version, of course. And it occurred to me then that all of my heroes had worn a cape. A psychiatrist would have a great time with that one I was sure. Smiling to myself and still singing I recognised that I was actually feeling quite refreshed and ready to tackle whatever work was going to throw at me when I returned. That led my thoughts to Richard and Chris and ultimately what Janet had called Personal Responsibility. I may not believe in ghoulies and ghosties and things that go bump in the night but I really liked the sound of that bit. I didn’t want to ask her more about it though in case she thought I was becoming one of them so I decided to look it up on the internet when I got back home.

  Driving back through Eadstone I stopped at the local mini-market to get some fresh bread and milk. Janet Banks was just coming out of the newsagents next door. Tucking her magazine under her arm she looked up and spotted me at about the same time.

  ‘Hello Rae.’

  ‘Janet, how are you?’

  ‘Not too bad. I haven’t had a phone call from Mrs Wilkes for a while now, so that helps a lot.’

  ‘That’s really good news, and how is Chris?

  ‘Oh he’s a bit better; he had a good talk with Tom from the church and that seems to have helped him. He’s a good man, Tom. Anyway got to dash, I’ve left food in the oven.’

  As I watched Janet walk away I couldn’t help noticing that her head was down a little and she hadn’t really convinced me with her positive spin on Chris’ wellbeing either. “Just what are you covering up, Janet?” I wondered.

  All thoughts of the Banks family were cast out of my head though when I put the key in my front door and pushed the door open against the pile of mail lying just inside. On top of the pile of letters and circulars lay a small, tightly folded piece of paper; it may have looked harmless enough but it made me hold my breath and break into a hot sweat. I knew those tiny notes, I used to find one every morning before I left for work. At first I had thought of them as love notes; how sweet that he cares so much, I used to think. It took me quite a long time really to recognise them for what they really were – tiny atom bombs thrown daily at my self-esteem.

  Like: “Morning sweetheart – just to say, make sure you don’t say anything too stupid in your meeting today ‘cos your big boss is going to be there after all.”

  ‘I will just bin this, unopened,’ I spoke out loud to strengthen my resolve as I was making my way across the hall and into the kitchen. But as I lifted the swing lid my other hand began to unwrap the folds of the paper and before I knew it my eyes were casting themselves down to the writing.

  Welcome Home Rae. Hope your holiday was good and that you didn’t get into too many scrapes. Thought I would leave this note so that you don’t feel quite so lonely coming back to an empty house. Love Jim xx

  Again I slept very badly; every time I drifted into sleep Jim was there leering at me and beckoning to me, and several times I woke sharply with my heart pounding in my chest. Eventually, around five, I got out of bed and went downstairs in search of a hot chocolate drink. For the first time in ages I regretted stopping smoking, right then a cigarette or 10 would be very soothing!

  ‘This responsibility thing sounds great and I’m sure it really works, I just don’t seem to be able to start doing it,’ I wailed to Barney as he lay sleeping in his bed.

  Richard

  My life is shitty-poo, pooey shit, like diarrhoea and vomit all mixed together.

  “Keep doing that and everyone will be happy.” Miss smarty-pants Simpson said.

  “You’ll feel much better soon.” Giant Tom said.

  Well what do they know? Seems like the only person who is happier and feeling better is Mrs Farty – big specs – Wilkes.

  So, I am curled up on the sofa, eating a Kit-Kat and watching cartoons on TV when Dad comes in with the crumpled piece of paper in his hand. I know straight away what it is and I get very scared. I thought I had thrown it away; I wrote it yesterday when I got back from school and I was feeling really angry ‘cos only Brandon would play with me and football with just two people stinks.

  Dad picks up the remote control and switches the TV off, then he comes and sits down on the sofa next to me. I try not to look at him, I had sworn in that note and said bad stuff, and I am thinking that he is going to really tell me off. But his voice is real
ly nice when he speaks to me.

  ‘Look at me Richard.’

  I do and I wish I hadn’t. He has tears in his eyes.

  ‘Is this really how you feel?’

  ‘It was how I felt yesterday.’

  ‘And today?’

  I go to tell a lie but a lump comes into my throat and I can’t swallow it. Instead stupid big tears jump out of my eyes and I put my hands over my face so he won’t see.

  Then he puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close to him. I snuggle into his armpit and before I can stop myself I am making great big crying noises and swallowing snot.

  And then he says that he is going to ask Tom and Rae to come to our house so they can all talk about it together.

  I love my Dad but I am sick of talking about it. I had done what they asked me to do, I had stopped giving messages in school. But now they want to talk about how unhappy that’s making me. It doesn’t make sense. I am fed up.

  I just want it all to go away.

  Rae

  I had to park the car a little lower down the road than I had before as a large black 4x4 was gleaming directly outside the Banks’ house. I guessed this must belong to the Spiritualist guy that Chris had also invited to this meeting. Why they had decided to call in the high priest I had no idea, in fact I had no idea why we were meeting at all really. Carol Wilkes had told me quite recently that Richard seemed to be behaving himself, although staff were still concerned about his well-being because he had become a little withdrawn, but as far as I knew he was in no danger of exclusion right now.

  As Janet showed me into the sitting room a large man was standing with his back to me admiring the gallery of Richard, as I had done on my previous visit. He turned as he heard us come in and then we both smiled.

  ‘Hello, It’s strange to see you without Barney,’ he said.

  I knew this guy, well, no, really I knew his dog. We often met at the woods and exchanged a few words as our dogs sniffed each other and played for a little while together. I only knew him as “the man with Herman” and no doubt he thought of me as “the woman with Barney.”

  Janet was watching us with obvious confusion.

  ‘The name’s Tom, Tom Little,’ he said, extending a huge hand towards mine. His slight smile told me that he realised the irony of his name seeing as how he was well over 6 feet in height.

  ‘Rae Simpson,’ I told him, shaking his hand.

  ‘We sometimes meet when we are walking our dogs,’ he explained now to Janet.

  ‘You have some amazing photos of Richard,’ he went on.

  She smiled and some of the warmth returned to her eyes momentarily.

  ‘Right, let’s get on,’ Chris was already speaking as he entered the room. ‘I asked you to come here today so that we can talk about Richard maybe going to another school.’

  I hadn’t seen this one coming at all. Parents often think that moving schools will be the answer to everything but unless the child’s behaviour changes it just means that you end up with the same problem in a different environment. Sometimes it’s better to stay with the devil you know.

  ‘May I ask why you are thinking this would be good for Richard?’ I asked.

  ‘He doesn’t want to go to Springhill any more,’ Janet answered quickly. ‘He says he has no friends and he hates it there now.’

  ‘But he is staying out of trouble?’

  ‘He hasn’t been told off or sent home again if that’s what you mean.’ Chris spoke harshly. ‘But he is in trouble spiritually.’

  Despite his great size Tom’s voice was surprisingly soft when he spoke;

  ‘Chris and Janet are understandably worried about Richard, we have been talking a lot about what has been happening in school and he does seem to have been finding it hard to deal with everything. It seems that what was happening to him about being in contact with the Spirit world was bad enough, but now he seems to be finding it very hard to cope without it.’

  I was looking at this man, whom I had often seen out with his large German Shepherd dog, a man who looked, and sounded, as sensible and normal as anyone I had ever met, and wondering how on earth he could be talking about this mumbo jumbo as if it were so matter of fact.

  Suddenly I realised just how very tired of all this I was, physically and emotionally, and how out of my depth I felt with it.

  ‘Obviously, I am concerned about Richard’s welfare but, strictly speaking, as he is no longer at risk of exclusion from school he is no longer within my remit,’ I told them.

  ‘So who is going to help him then?’ Janet asked quietly. Turning to meet her eyes I felt the sheer exhaustion and despair of the other woman, and it felt greater than my own.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I answered honestly. ‘Let me think about it will you? What exactly is going on at school now that makes Richard hate it so much?’

  ‘He won’t talk about it’’ his mother said despondently.

  ‘He won’t talk much about anything anymore,’ his father’s voice, though louder and stronger, contained no less confusion and fear.

  ‘Can I have your permission to go into school and speak alone with Richard?’ Both parents nodded consent to this.

  ‘I will also chat with some of the staff and see if we can get to the bottom of the problem.’

  ‘And I will be meeting with Richard again this weekend to try to help him sort out his spiritual issues,’ Tom said.

  ‘So we seem to have a plan.’ I hoped that my voice sounded brighter and more optimistic that I felt. ‘So will you give us, say, until this time next week to find out more before you think about changing schools?’

  My false optimism obviously worked well for Janet, she smiled and thanked me and Tom for our help. Chris, however, continued to scowl but agreed to wait the week out.

  Richard

  It snowed quite a lot for a couple of days but most of it has gone really, just in some places there are a few muddy ice mountains sticking up. I kick a couple and watch the ice break into a million pieces and scatter onto the pavement, like when I drop a glass at home and we keep finding tiny bits of it for ages after.

  I am on my way to school, walking really slow ‘cos I don’t want to be there before the bell goes. I used to get in early so that we could be playing football in the playground before lessons and I used to love it when we were nicking crisps from the girls at break-time then running away laughing as they pretended to be cross.

  But that was before, now I try to be on my own most times ‘cos I am scared that I won’t be able to do the control thing Tom is teaching me and I might start telling people stuff again.

  Mum and Dad had been having massive rows lately as well and now when Dad is tucking me in at night I can sometimes smell whiskey on his breath.

  They had their meeting, Mum, Dad, Tom and Rae. That’s what the last row was about. Dad kept saying that Mum was backing down and giving in and Mum was crying and saying she just wanted everything sorted. I curled up into a ball and hid my ears under my pillow to make it all stop.

  I stop walking to kick another mushy mountain to pieces when I hear a couple of year six boys coming up behind me. I know it was year six ‘cos I hear Kian; he’s the biggest kid in the school and he’s got the loudest voice ever. I move over to let them get passed but as he goes by Kian pushes his shoulder into my back and knocks me clean over. Then they all laugh and carry on walking.

  The broken ice doesn’t look like glass from down here on my belly, close up it is just muddy water.

  Kids are just walking past me as I lie on the ground, as if they can’t see me at all. I don’t want to get up, if I get up I will have to carry on walking and go to school. I don’t want to do it all again. I don’t want to be alone all day watching everybody else have fun and I don’t want to be always waiting for someone to call me weird and laugh at me.

  An
d that’s when I decide not to go into school.

  I get up and walk away in the opposite direction and I start to feel happier already.

  Rae

  I was just taking a bite from a delicious chicken salad sandwich when the phone on my desk began to ring. Chewing furiously, aware of the garlic mayonnaise trying to escape onto my chin, I reached out for the receiver. ‘Good Morn……’

  Janet’s voice sounded so distraught that it took me a few seconds to recognise it as she interrupted me.

  ‘Rae please help me, Richard didn’t turn up for school and he left here on time and I don’t know what to do or where to go or who to speak to….’

  Twenty minutes later I was sitting on a pine chair in Janet’s country style kitchen watching helplessly as the distraught mother tried to concentrate on making coffee.

  ‘The school rang me just before ten. I don’t know where he is, Chris has gone looking for him and he told me to stay here in case he comes home. Oh damn, now I’ve spilt the milk.’ And she burst into tears.

  Reaching out I grabbed a sheet of kitchen roll and mopped up the milk before

  I put my arm around her small shoulder and hugged her close to me. She sobbed so much and so deep, I could feel the wrench on her whole body as I held her.

  Eventually Janet calmed down enough to revert back to her usual polite state of being. ‘I am so sorry Rae. I just am so scared and I didn’t know who else to call.’

  Reaching out to touch her hand I told her not to worry – what a stupid thing to tell a mother at this time I knew, but I couldn’t think of anything useful to say.

  ‘I really can’t believe all of this is happening to us’ she said and as she spoke several large tears fell onto her cheeks again. ‘It’s like our whole world has gone to pieces over the last year. Chris had a nervous breakdown you know, a year ago, stress of work and financial pressure. He’s still on sick leave now.’