A Death Displaced (13 page)

When the cashier asked for the money, Nick found himself searching a practically empty wallet. He’d thought he had a note, but then remembered he broke into it to buy the orange juice at The Crow.
Going a bit further into overdraft won’t hurt much.
He used his card.

It was cold throughout the house when he arrived home. He hugged his arms and waited for a readymade Chicken Tikka Masala to microwave, then ate as much as he could before holing up in bed to warm himself.

It seemed like his thoughts and feelings were out of reach, but he didn’t exactly
want
to feel or think, because he wasn’t sure if it would be too much to bear. Eventually, he began to cry.

Thoughts came to mind of when his mum had disappeared: Monday the 3
^rd
 of February 2003. At first, Nick and his family hadn’t grieved, because they’d been waiting for her return. But his dad’s birthday wasn’t celebrated that year; how could they make merry two weeks after something like that?

As a family they’d been more focused on finding her at that point. Though, when it had become more obvious she wasn’t going to show up, Nick had finally started to grieve, assuming the worst.

To begin with, Nick’s dad hadn’t told his sons about the money their mother had taken. Then when he did tell them, Nick hadn’t been sure how to feel. He’d wanted hope that she was coming home, and he wasn’t ready to believe her dead, so all he could do was assume she’d taken the money to start a new life elsewhere.

It made sense now that she had somehow died. He couldn’t remember her acting strangely before her disappearance. She’d been the loving mum he’d always known her to be, with no apparent reasons to want a new life.

He shoved away the memories, hating that he’d spent most of the last eight, almost nine, years resenting his mum for leaving. But there were still things he needed to know. Why did she take the money out? What happened to her car? Also, she could have died at any point between her disappearance and now.

For some time, he cried on and off with a mixture of guilt for the woman who fell and sadness at knowing his mum was truly dead. When he fell asleep, he slept like a rock.   
 
 

*

The next day, he arrived at his dad’s house. He knocked and Tommy answered.

‘Alright?’ Tommy asked, his large frame blocking the doorway.

‘Yeah, thanks. Where’s Dad?’

‘He’s makin’ us food.’ Tommy nodded towards the kitchen, and then moved out the way.

Walking inside, Nick felt how warm it was. He took off his jacket and hung it in the hallway. It had been a few months since his last visit, but everything looked the same as before.

The house was spotless. He eyed the furniture that used to be so familiar to him, and felt relief envisioning a life of no bills, no mortgage, no washing up, no ironing, and no food shopping. And in that moment, he missed living with his family and having everything so easy.

Then he brought himself back down to earth.

He found his dad, John Crystan, in the kitchen laying out some plates on the worktop. Whatever he was cooking smelt remarkable, a warm and commingled aroma that engaged the senses. 

‘Hi, Dad.’

‘Hello, Nicolas.’ John awkwardly wiped his hands on a tea towel, then gave his son a hug. After releasing him, he moved back with his eyes aimed down at the floor. His back was arched, and without looking up he said, ‘You look well,’ and then shuffled to the oven and adjusted some knobs.

‘Thanks, you too. I’m going to say hi to Tom. Is he upstairs?’

‘Err, yes, in his room.’ John half-turned towards him, didn’t quite give eye contact.

Nick ran up the stairs in the manner of someone who knew the staircase well, then knocked on Tom’s door. Tom and Tommy used to share a room with a bunk bed before Nick had moved out, but they were a lot younger then. Now with Nick out the house they both had their own rooms.

When Tom opened the door, he smiled at the sight of his older brother and automatically hugged him. Nick found himself wondering why Tommy never greeted him with a hug.
I suppose he’s to coooool for that.
 

Tom didn’t have his twin’s muscular frame, but the two of them looked almost identical in every other respect. Nick thought his brothers were more handsome than him, and could see why girls swooned around them.

‘You coming downstairs, Tom?’

‘Yeah. Is food ready?’

‘I think it’s almost done; Dad didn’t say. You been alright?’

‘Yeah. Halloween was good. I didn’t get to go to The Burning Grounds this year though.’ Tom pulled a disappointed face. ‘But I can go any time. I just like going there on Halloween.’

Nick hadn’t been to The Burning Grounds for a while now, but he knew that Tom loved it and would go every year on Halloween. If you didn’t get there early enough, though, then you weren’t likely to get in, because to preserve the site a limited number of people were allowed entrance per day.

‘Did you go around Eradon Lake instead?’ Nick asked.

‘Yeah, you know me. I like going places and thinking. I usually sit and look at the stone platforms where the witches were burnt and listen to my iPod, but I walked around the lake instead.’

The Burning Grounds was near Eradon Lake, another attraction for tourists. It was in the centre of the island, and in the 16
^th
century, when the stone platforms were built, people living on the island used the lake as a fresh water supply. From the hills in the north above Chanton, Aberfin River flowed into Eradon Lake which sourced two other rivers: Nova River that passed Etherby and the village of Beade to the south, and Lynn River that flowed through Amiton. Both went out to the Celtic Sea.

‘I’m sure you’ll go to The Burning Grounds another time. I might come with you actually. I haven’t been in ages.’

‘Awesome. Let’s go downstairs. I’m hungry.’ Tom nodded. He wore a black baggy hoodie and skinny jeans which created a top-heavy effect that suited his slim frame.

Why doesn’t he tell me what he wants to talk about now?
thought Nick, but he remembered that Tom had said on the phone it was personal and he didn’t feel comfortable talking about it at his dad’s house.  

Nick started for the stairs. Remembering something, he stopped and opened a door first. When he peeked inside, he sighed at the sight of piled up boxes, a dusty computer desk, and various junk crammed into the room. He turned to Tom and asked,
‘Dad still hasn’t moved back into that room?’

‘You know what he’s like.’ Tom gave an understanding shrug. 

After shaking his head in resignation and then plodding back down the steps, Nick settled at the dining table with Tom and Tommy. He observed how one of the chairs was an odd-one-out at the table that usually dined for three.

John brought the food, set it down, and they began eating. Nick asked his brothers how college was going. Tommy bragged about how much he loved it, but Tom wasn’t so enthusiastic.

‘Are you still dating Sophie? Was it Sophie?’ Nick asked Tommy.

‘Sophie? Yuh mean Stacey?’ He rumbled a laugh.

‘Yeah, Stacey.’

‘Nah, I ain’t seen her for weeks. I’m with Chloe now,’ Tommy said proudly. ‘But I got with Jade and Kerry after Stacey anyway.’ He threw the names out there as if Nick knew these random women. ‘Stacey don’t talk to me no more. She got with my mate to get back at me. Yuh know Brendan?’

‘Oh yeah.’ He nodded along.

‘Yeah, well he’s a twat; they hooked up the week I dumped her.’ Tommy’s eyebrows came together as an angry twosome. ‘But I don’t care anyway. Chloe’s way better than her. And I got with Jade that week and she’s mates with Stacey.’ Full of himself, he smiled.

‘I can’t keep up with your personal life, Tommy. But at least I don’t feel so bad about forgetting Stacey’s name now.’ Nick laughed and Tom snickered too.

‘Shut up,’ Tommy retaliated. ‘Just cause you two ain’t gettin’ any!’

Nick felt awkward at the use of the term ‘getting any’ in front of his dad, and Tom seemed embarrassed too.

‘I’m not looking,’ said Nick.

‘And I’m staying single for a while,’ was Tom’s excuse.

Tommy laughed to himself. ‘Whatever.’

After that, Tom talked about films that he wanted to lend to Nick, but Tommy seemed uninterested. Nick found himself impressed at how much Tom had changed over the years. When he used to live with them, the twins were 
so
 alike. Possibly with Nick out the house, it gave Tom more room to be himself, or maybe it was because he had a separate bedroom to his twin now.

Whatever the reason, Nick was pleased, and found it much easier to relate with Tom these days.

John kept his head down and stayed quiet for most of the meal. Nick had hoped his dad would offer input, and became disappointed when he didn’t. He observed how much greyer his dad’s hair was compared to the last time he’d seen him, and the way his skin had begun to droop in places.

He’d never seen much resemblance between his dad and his brothers, or his dad and himself for that matter. John had green eyes, the twins had brown. John’s hair was a dull ashen colour (and greying), the twins had strong dark hair. In himself and his brothers, Nick could his mum’s face, and he considered how hard it must be for his dad to see the resemblance every day.

Once the food was gone, Nick sat heavy and stuffed; he hadn’t eaten so much in a long time.
The lingering smell was coaxingly sweet before, but now it repelled his glutted belly.

While John took the empty plates away, Nick thought about what Tom’s personal matter might be. Maybe
he
knew something about their mum’s disappearance too? But then, how could he know anything? The temptation to ask jumped around in his head, but he decided impatience was a bugger and he should learn to wait.

Nick felt incipient frustration at how quiet his dad was, mixed with a heavy guilt in knowing more about his mum’s fate than the rest of his family did. He yearned to say, 
She’s dead, Dad, you can stop waiting for her to come back,
 but he couldn’t tell them anything. They would ask how he knew. 
I saw the future and saved a woman who now sees ghosts, and Mum appeared to her. Hmmm, not such a good idea.
  

Until he knew exactly how she died, he wouldn’t tell them. John placed a jug of orange squash in the centre of the table, passed glasses around, and then sat silent again.

‘How’s work?’ Tom asked Nick.

John looked up suddenly with apparent interest.

‘It’s okay, and Halloween was good. I just wish I had more hours or better pay,’ he answered with a drubbed laugh.

‘Do you need some money?’ John interrupted.

‘No, Dad, I was just saying. It was easier when I had a full time job.’

‘Have you got enough to pay your bills?’

‘I can manage,’ he said defensively.

‘I’ll see what I’ve got in my wallet …’ John steamrolled and began fumbling into his trouser pocket.

‘No. Dad, stop it. I don’t need it,’ he said firmly, gesturing for his father to cease. John ignored him, pulled notes from his wallet, and handed them across the table.

Tom and Tommy shuffled awkwardly, keeping out of it.

Nick pushed his dad’s hand away. ‘I said stop it!’ he shouted. His body buzzed, irritated, and he couldn’t stay still.

‘I don’t mind, Nicolas, we’ve got plenty. I can give you more if you need it.’

‘I said no.’

‘I want you to have it. Just take it please.’ He extended his note-filled hand again.

Nick’s blood boiled. He pushed the hand away. ‘
You’re
 the reason I moved out in the first place. 
You’re
 the reason I don’t have any money. If you weren’t so weird about Mum, I wouldn’t have moved out yet.’ He saw a snippet of pain run across his dad’s face, but continued anyway. ‘You haven’t even moved back into your old bedroom. The office is too small for you to sleep in,’ he bawled, pointing up towards the ceiling.

‘Nick, you’re outta line,’ Tommy’s deep voice interrupted.

Nick stopped and caught his breath. Tommy looked mad, and Tom just looked upset.

Bringing his hands to his forehead, Nick closed his eyes and fell quiet for a moment. ‘Sorry. Sorry, Dad.’ He stood and moved away from the table. ‘I’m going to leave now. Thank you for dinner.’

John nodded, and gently mumbled, ‘That’s okay. I’ll see you soon.’

His dad’s submissive reaction annoyed Nick some more, but he walked down the hallway and grabbed his jacket. Tom came up behind him. ‘Can I still come speak to you at yours soon?’ he asked in a hushed voice.

‘Yeah,’ said Nick.

‘Thank you.’

Having left the house, he sulked to his car. Knowing not to drive distressed, he thumped the steering wheel repeatedly and let out an angry wail. It helped. Although his throat was now raw and tasted bloody, it was good to express his emotions.

He drove around the corner, and once he arrived home he ran a shower and washed himself, scrubbing hard to rinse away the shame. His dad hadn’t deserved his stupid outburst of anger, but then how out of touch was his father was when it came to their relationship? Nick needed a strong dad who could move on from the past. He
needed
a role model.

If his dad had set an example, proving to his sons it was possible to move on from their mother’s disappearance, then maybe Nick would have learnt that too and would never have fallen into depression and moved out of his family’s home, creating his current financial problems.

It’s not your money I want, Dad; it’s having you back the way you once were
.

The shower left him alert, which was the last thing he desired. All he wanted was to go to sleep and have Monday arrive.
Why didn’t I suggest visiting Grendel Manor tomorrow?
he thought, realising he had no plans for Sunday.

Having forgotten it was Bonfire Night, the fireworks and his thoughts kept him up for a long stretch, but sleep won in the end.

Chapter 10