Holly Dangerfield stood beside the bay window, gazing out at the rain-lashed street outside. She found it odd to think that on a day like today everybody else was going about their normal business. Driving to and from work. Doing their shopping. Picking their kids up from school. Just all the normal things you’d expect to be doing on a Wednesday.
And Wednesdays…she hated Wednesday. People at work would say it was the “middle finger” to the rest of the working week. She just hated them full stop. Today she had even more cause to hate the day.
As she stood there in her all-black dress holding a small bunch of white lilies, she forced herself to stop crying. She was determined to not end up at the cemetery in a state.
She had been at work as usual when her Mum had called her with the news.
She had always been close to her granddad when she was small, but felt guilty because she hadn’t seen much of him in the last few years. She had made an effort to go every few weeks, but it had been a good few years since her grandma had died and somehow it never felt the same with him on his own. He had just become gloomier and gloomier without her near. He missed her.
Her father had said that he had died of old age. Holly believed, however stupid it sounded, that he had died of a broken heart.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned her head a little to her right. She could smell her dads aftershave.
“You okay love?”
His voice was warm and reassuring.. She should have been asking if he was okay, not the other way around. It was, after all, his own father who had died.
“I’m good. I’m fine,” said Holly with a weak smile.
“Why don’t you come and sit down?”
She shook her head. “I just wanna watch the rain.” She liked watching the rain. It made her think. Sometimes she felt hypnotised watching those tiny droplets of water race each other down the window pane and merge into a small puddle at the bottom.
“Granddad wouldn’t want you to be unhappy, love,” he said.
She frowned. “Granddad wouldn’t want me to forget him.”
“You’re not forgetting him, sweetheart. We have to try and be happy. It’s what he would have wanted.”
She felt angry. She felt frustrated that it was her granddad that had been taken away. She turned and looked at him angrily. “Well it doesn’t matter what he wants now because he’s not here, is he?”
She put the lilies on the table and walked into the kitchen where her little sister, Agatha, was sat with her granddads dog, her eyes puffy and red.
“You shouldn’t shout at Dad,” said Agatha.
“You heard, did you?” said Holly, sitting down on the floor next to her sister and joining in stroking the old Labrador.
“I think everyone heard you.”
Holly shook her head. Her sister was only 13 and ten years younger than her, but she had her head screwed on and was a bright kid. She hadn’t been as close to her grandparents as Holly was, but that was because she was younger and had spent less time with them.
“I’m just upset, Aggie,” said Holly, staring at a tiny crack above the skirting board. “Granddad meant a lot to me.”
“I know he did,” said Agatha, “but you can’t just get angry with Dad. It’s not his fault.”
“I know,” she said, nodding. “I’ll apologise. I promise.”
Agatha smiled at her. “Anyone would think that I was the big sister.”
Holly laughed. “No chance, squirt.”
Agatha playfully smacked her sisters arm and the two girls laughed.
Holly’s Dad appeared in the doorway and looked at each of the two girls.
Holly smiled sadly and got to her feet. “I’m sorry, Dad,” she said, giving him a big hug.
He tried to hold back his tears. “Hey, not to worry, sweetheart. I’m your Dad. I can take a knock.” He laughed. “Human punch bag, you know?”
By the time they had left the house for the crematorium, the rain had eased off. A large, angry, grey cloud still loomed ominously in the sky, but Holly was thankful that it was getting dry now.
The procession of cars wound their way down the tree-lined road that led past nice-looking detached houses, a school and an allotment, before finally coming to a stop at the gates to the cemetery, the tall trees looming over them and swaying wildly in the wind.
Holly didn’t remember much about the service. She remembered trying to hold it in for as long as possible, before seeing Agatha crying, which set her off. Then she remembered gazing up at the stained glass window at the front of the building and seeing the sun peek through the clouds and shine a few rays of light through the coloured glass and onto granddads coffin.
Holly closed her eyes and tried to block everything out around her, but every time she did she saw her granddads face smiling at her. In some ways she found it comforting, but every time she felt comfortable, it made her think again of how much she missed him and it made her feel even worse.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but, after they had sung ‘Edelwiess’ - granddads favourite song - the procession had moved outside. He had always wanted a burial, even more so after her grandma had been buried as well.
Her grandma’s grave had been reopened and Holly peered a little over the edge. She could see the dirt-stained coffin far down in the ground and her thoughts went to her grandma lying there still and lifeless. She back up a little and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think those thoughts.
Slowly the coffin was lowered into the ground, and for a moment Holly was momentarily distracted by something in the corner of her eye.
To her right, a few gravestones away, was a man - older than her - with dark, unkempt hair, piercing blue eyes and an unshaven jaw line. He was attractive and wore a long, grey coat with a high collar and a pair of dark blue jeans. He was stood at a side to her, but his head had turned to look at her way.
She frowned.
He frowned back.
And then a small, blonde girl appeared at his side. He turned to her and smiled. She was rather pretty, but she looked frustrated, she looked as if she had a permanent frown etched onto her face. Her eyes flicked to Holly’s and Holly looked away quickly.
The two were talking, but Holly couldn’t make out what they were saying.
“Ashes to ashes…dust to dust,” said the vicar, drawing her back into the sadness in front of her.
She watched as members of the family threw in handfuls of dirt and then moved away one by one. She grabbed a handful, looked at Agatha, and then threw it down to the coffin.
“Goodbye Granddad,” she said with a sniff, took Agatha’s hand, and then walked away from the graveside.
As she walked away she glanced around her, but the man and the young girl were nowhere to be seen.
A few weeks passed. Life returned to normal.
It was on a Monday morning when things took a slightly more…odder turn.
Holly had been working at a frozen food factory for the past few months. She’d recently lost her job at the library due to cutbacks, and she saw this job as just something to tide her over until she found something better.
At the age of 23 she was definitely not old enough to go into something new, but she enjoyed working with books and libraries and she was hoping to get a job at the local shopping centre’s Waterstones. She was just waiting for them to get back to her with her interview time.
On the whole working on a production line packing fish was a largely boring experience, but it paid her way and let her continue her hobbies. Her mind was always racing with things so she never felt too bored. She’d simply switch off and find herself in her own little world.
At school Holly had been a little bit of an outcast. Whilst all the other kids were into playing games and showing off their new toys, Holly had been into books and adventure. She and her friend, Roxanne, used to have all sorts of adventures on the old, disused railway line near her family home. She’d often return home with a bit of fabric tied around the top of her head for a bandana, a wooden stick used for a staff and her face smeared with mud.
Her parents used to get frustrated with their “Little Princess”, who most certainly wasn’t acting like a princess, but they knew they couldn’t break her out of her ways.
She sighed as she pulled off her hairnet and went to her locker to get changed into her shoes and coat. She made her way out of the building and into the crisp, Autumn afternoon. It had stayed particularly dry for the last few weeks after the funeral and this made her happy. Autumn was her favourite time of the year, but she detested the rain. She liked the cold and dark nights and the dead leaves, but the atmosphere was always ruined by the rain.
She unlocked her bike and began cycling home. As she made her way home she cycled past one of the smaller churches on her route where she noticed an ambulance and police car parked up outside the small, ancient graveyard.
She frowned. Someone must have collapsed or maybe there had been an accident. She put it out of her head, and then she saw him. The same man she had seen a few weeks ago in the cemetery at her granddads funeral. Sure enough he was standing there with the girl who still looked slightly pissed off. They were stood a little way from the ambulance, but were clearly staring at something in the small graveyard.
The man noticed Holly cycling past and his blue eyes flicked to her again. There was a moment of recognition and he smiled at her.
The blonde girl noticed he was looking and tugged on his arm. When he looked at her quizzically, she jabbed her finger towards one of the graves.
Holly followed their gaze and could see one of the graves, the earth overturned in it. She momentarily lost concentration on what she was doing until a car horn beeped at her. She’d veered to the other side of the road and she had to swerve to get out of the way of an oncoming car.
She skidded to a halt, mounted the pavement and took a few deep breaths.
“Get a grip,” she said to herself. She looked back one more time, but the man and girl were walking away, his hands deep in his pockets, her hands busy writing in a scruffy-looking notepad. She considered going back to see what all the fuss was about, but she just wanted to get home. She was tired and needed a bath.
That night she was unable to sleep. She lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She turned to face the clock. It was 11pm and she knew she had to be up in five hours to set off for work again. She could hear Agatha’s TV coming from down the hall. If she didn’t turn it down, her mum would be in to tell her off.
Holly made a mental note to consider getting her own little place. She loved living with her family, but sometimes she just craved the peace and quiet.
Eventually…eventually…she drifted off.
The next thing she knew her eyes were wide open and the alarm was going off.
She groaned as she threw back the covers. She had a shower, made a cup of coffee and then made her way back outside.
The air was crisp again and there was a layer of frost of the grass in the back garden. She got on her bike and her heart sank when she realised that she had a puncture. How had I not noticed that yesterday? she thought to herself.
She grabbed her MP3 player, wrapped a scarf around her, unlocked the back gate and began the long walk to the factory.
It was about 25 minutes into the walk when she passed the small church and the graveyard she had cycled past the other day. There was a thin layer of mist that had covered the ground and the headstones looked scary, peeking out from the spooky mist.
She noticed that a police cordon had been put around the grave that had been overturned. She frowned, took a look around her, and let her curiosity get the better of her.
She climbed over the small wall and up the gentle incline to the grave, feeling her old adventurous self rear its head again. She couldn’t really see what the problem was and why it had been cordoned off and was about to turn and carry on to work when she heard a shuffling sound a few graves away.
It made her jump and she turned. Standing there with his back to her was an old man in a black suit.
Holly didn’t know what to say. He looked completely out of place. What was an old man doing wandering the streets at this time in the morning, let alone wandering a graveyard?
“Are you okay?” said Holly, jumping at the sound of her own voice in the silence.
The old man turned his head slowly to face her. He looked confused and his eyes were dark and sunken in. His skin was pale and stretched over his face. If it hadn’t been for the skin he could have looked just like a skeleton.
“Are you lost?” said Holly.
The old man frowned and turned the rest of his body to face her. But he didn’t move. He just kept staring at her.
“Do you need help?” asked Holly.
The old man opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead he reached up an arm towards her and slowly began shuffling forward. At first slowly, but it soon turned into a stumbling walk, always threatening to trip over his own feet.
“I think I better go,” said Holly.
The old man was almost on top of her when suddenly the unshaven man she had seen yesterday leapt out from the mist and grabbed the old man, both arms wrapped tightly around him.
He was followed by the young girl, dressed in a red bobble hat and dark coat. She was carrying an old brown bag and threw it over the old man’s head.
The man turned to face Holly, clearly struggling to hold the writhing old man. “Just go,” he said.
She frowned. “What the hell…?”
“You heard the man,” said the young girl. She had a Scottish accent. Come to think of it, so did he. “Just get out of here. You don’t wanna get involved.”
“Involved in what?” said Holly.
“That would be telling,” said the man, as he suddenly stumbled to the floor, the old man toppling on top of him.
The girl threw a rucksack to the ground and pulled out some rope. She leapt on top of the old man and began tying his hands behind his back. She turned back to Holly. “He said go!”
The man winked. “I’d do as she says,” he smiled.
Holly didn’t need to be told another time. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but it looked like some kind of kidnapping. It wasn’t something she wanted to get involved in. She stumbled backwards, clambered over the wall and walked as fast as she could towards the factory.
Simon Fox opened the curtains and groaned at the freezing cold mist that had descended - and seemed to be getting thicker - in his garden. He shook his head, switched on the kettle, and then settled down at the kitchen table with the newspaper and cup of hot, black coffee.
He took a few sips and glanced momentarily out of the window. He did a double take when he realised what he had seen.
He couldn’t be quite sure, but he was certain he had seen a person wandering around through the fog. He put on his glasses and peered closer out of the window.
There it was again. It was definitely a person, wandering aimlessly near the back fence.
With an angry grunt he put on his shoes and wrapped his dressing gown tighter around him. He unlocked the backdoor and marched into the garden. He wasn’t sure what he was going to find, but he certainly knew he didn’t want an intruder back there.
He grabbed a garden cane as he marched confidently towards the back fence.
“Hey!” he said, his breath in the fog. “Hey! What the hell are you doing back there?”
He was almost on top of the person now as it turned to face him.
“I’m giving you a chance here,” said Simon, “or I’ll whack you with this thing.” Simon wasn’t a violent person. In fact he had never even whacked a fly with a rolled up newspaper. It was all a show.
He was right in front of the person.
“Turn around!” said Simon.
The figure turned around. It was a woman with long, blonde hair, ruby-red lips and a yellow, flowery dress.
Simon frowned. “Mum?”
Simon would normally have been happy to see his Mum. Except his Mum had been dead for five years.
To be continued...
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