How
often had he heard people say, you never know when your time is up? He thought
that was a huge pile of bullshit. You can tell when your time is up; he sure could
and it was coming fast. It was all a huge cosmic joke, he though, could God be some
idiot child in the sky, playing with people’s lives. Were we his wind-up toys,
running around until our parts exploded, or our clock shuddered to a halt?
Jimmy could feel his spring starting to give up the battle; the tick-tock of
his mechanism got a bit weaker every day. He slipped on his coat and placed his
hat on top of his balding head, checking his reflection one last time.
Tick-tock, tick-tock. “Bloody typical,” he said aloud, and left the house.
He
shuffled along the streets, his head hung low, his eyes not registering the
people he passed. Tick-tock, tick-tock. He hated London; he always had. He was
a northern boy at heart, and before his spring wound down completely, he was
going to visit the one place he had been truly happy in the whole course of his
life, Indian Hill.
He
sat on the bus. Nobody looked at him. He bought his ticket for the train,
return. Not even a thank you from the ticket seller. He sat alone during the
journey and was glad of the fact. He’d too much on his mind to listen to some
hopeless case wittering on in his ear for hours, not that he would witter back
in any case. Silence suited him.
When
the train finally pulled into the station it looked just as it had done all
those years ago. That day, he’d ridden the train with his parents, a wicker
picnic basket in the seat between them, while they tried to coax a word or two out
of him. They began the climb together, his parents stopping half way up, Jimmy
continuing alone to the top. He was only a few hundred yards from the summit
when she jumped out of a bush, thinking he was someone else, and scared the
shite out of him. Tess, was her name, and she was effervescent. They sat on the
wall and waited for her friends to find her; she giggled at his jokes, and
shared the cigarettes Jimmy had been hiding from his dad. She let him kiss her,
and a little bit more, before her friends appeared. She waved, and gave him a
naughty wink, before vanishing from his life forever.
He
never forgot Tess, or that half hour stolen on top of Indian Hill. He classed
it as the highlight of his life. Today was cold and damp, and nothing like the
day he had last made the climb, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He stopped at
a pub for a quick half before starting the climb. In his chest, Jimmy felt the
spring of his life slip one more notch, and he sighed deeply.
The
climb was not half as bad as the barman had said it would be, but Jimmy had
more on his mind than a bit of mist. When he eventually reached the glade, he
recognised the wall, even if the bushes had long ago been cut away. He settled
himself down and looked out over the country below, and tried to bring back
that day he fell in love, so many years ago. He felt a tap on his shoulder and
turned around.
“Boo!”
she said, and smiled.
It
was impossible, it could not be? It looked just like her. He felt his heart
lurch as he struggled to get off the wall. She laughed, and her voice filled
the air with rainbows.
“Tess,
is it you?” he asked, his turkey gizzard neck quivering.
“Don’t
be silly, of course it’s not,” said the girl, who looked just like Tess, as she
sat beside him on the wall. “But seeing as you came all this way, I thought I'd
help out a little.”
“So,
who are you?”
“I
think you know the answer to that particular question. I’ve loads of names,
none of which I’m particularly fond of, so perhaps we can stick with Tess for
now,” said the young girl, laying a comforting hand on the old man’s trembling
leg.
“You
look exactly like her. Exactly, even down to the clothes you're wearing.”
“I
know,” said the girl with a smile that said she was humouring a simpleton. “I
know everyone’s stories, everyone’s secrets, and darkest deeds. I know what
lies in every man’s heart, and when the time is right, every man is due a visit
from me. Jimmy, today's your day.”
He
looked terrified and tried to back away from the smiling girl at his side.
“Ah,
Jimmy. Don’t be frightened. I just wanted to talk for a while, nothing's going
to happen, yet.”
“Why?”
asked the old man, the word quivering on his tongue.
“Look
around, Jimmy. It’s beautiful up here. Do you know, I spend most of my times
hanging around in hospitals, nursing homes, war zones and traffic accidents. I
nearly never get to come to places as lovely as this. I just wanted to chat,
and sit for a bit. Is that okay?” she said, looking deep into his eyes.
“Do
I have a choice?” he said, the fear still there but he starting to gain control.
“I
guess not,” she said, turning away from him to look over the vista.
Jimmy
let his gaze follow hers and a wave of peace flowed over him. “It was sunny, not
like this,” he said, his voice dreamy.
“What
was?”
“The
day I met her…you.” The girl at his side frowned, and looked away from the
view, giving the old man her full attention.
“You’re
a fool, Jimmy, do you know that?”
“I’m
not,” the old man said, his dignity hurt, anger quickly replacing the fear at
his core.
“You
are, but you don’t know it,” she said, her tone growing hard. “Look at me.”
The
old man did as he was told, it was not a chore to gaze upon her face. “This is
what you compared every woman in your life to, an ideal, a memory, shined by
years of lust and little fact. You sacrificed everyone that could love you, for
nothing, for a figment of your imagination, for one perfect moment remembered
with rose-tinted glasses.”
“That’s
complete rubbish,” he blustered.
“Is
it? Where's your wife, Ann, and your boys, Josh and Kevin?”
“I
don’t know and I don’t want to know,” said the old man, turning away angrily.
“I
know you don’t, and the fact of the matter is, they don’t give a damn where you
are either. You are a greedy man, Jimmy Gaskill, always looking for more than
the world is willing to give, always griping about the bounty that is laid at
your door, while envying the man beside you. You despised Ann, and still she
loved you. She forgave your surliness, she forgave your cold looks and
unfeeling ways, she endured your selfish lovemaking, if you could call it that.
She hoped that one day you would become the man she believed you were, and when
it became clear that would never happen, she did the only sane thing, she left
you to rot in your misery.”
“Bitch,”
snarled the old man.
“What
about the others?”
“What
others?”
“All
of them, remember, I know all your secrets. The ones you pursued, lied to and
tricked into bed. You plundered their bodies, hating them for letting you,
always comparing them to this,” she said, indicating her own perfect body with
outstretched hands. The girl moved away from the wall and stood in front of the
old man.
“Do
you want to see what your dream was really made out of?”
Jimmy
didn’t have a chance to answer because the girl in front of him melted like
wax, moving, shifting, and reforming before his eyes. When the transformation
was complete, the old man looked on the vision with disgust.
“This
was how she looked the day I came for her. Heroin is not an easy master to
please,” said the hollow cheeked crone who now stood before him. Rotten stumps
of teeth sticking out of bleeding gums, scab-covered hands, and filthy hair
matted into her skull. “The real tragedy of the story is; you wasted the gift
that was given to you.”
“What
gift?” the old man asked, trying not to look at the woman who stood before him.
“Time…time
to live your life. Seventy-two years, wasted on you. Do you know that some of
the greatest people who ever lived, never got to speak one word? Remember, I
know all their stories, what they were, and what they could have been. They
were passed over by time, while you got so much, and wasted it all.”
“I
could do better, if I had one more chance,” said the old man, his eyes moist
with knowledge that his spring had just slipped its last notch.
“Sorry
my friend, no do-overs. You must be tired after that long walk.” The old
man staggered and put a hand on the wall to steady himself. “Why not lie down
for a bit, you'll feel better.”
“Alright,
if you think so,” said Jimmy, his voice heavy. He lay out on the grass, his
head pointing up the hill, so he could look at the valley below. The crone
shimmered once more, and young Tess reappeared. She sat on the grass beside him
and rested a cool hand on his forehead.
“Will
it hurt?” he crooked.
“Not
even a little,” she said.
Tick-tock,
tick-, and with that, he was gone.
No comments:
Post a Comment