A Cockney's Journey (41 page)

Fuck me, she’d have to go,
I thought. Then it happened.
    This particular night I was sleeping rather badly. I woke in the night around two or three in the morning; I noticed Rona moving in and out of the bedroom, acting agitated as if looking for something. I wondered what the hell she was playing at. After the tenth bloody time she appeared in and then out of the room, I decided enough was definitely enough. I slipped out of bed and, to my utmost horror; I noticed she was fucking sound asleep next to me! I screamed in shock and woke her up. I then told her what was happening. She just looked at me, shrugged her shoulders and promptly fell back to sleep, acting like she’d been drugged. That was the last time she kipped in my flat. In the morning, I gave Rona the tintack rather rapidly. What worries me was the fact that she reckoned she knew me from a previous life. Having no right hand didn’t bother me at all; I’m not a shallow person! If what she says is true, was it her spirit I encountered all those years ago in Deptford? I mean the poltergeist there had her right hand missing as well. My God, what a frightening thought!
    A few weeks later I was having a beer with a couple of guys from work. This was normal practice every Friday after work, unless something else cropped up. I stood at the bar, ordering a round of drinks. The barmaid didn’t take a blind bit of notice of me. Her eyes wide open and wild with fear, she gazed in disbelief over my shoulder. Her mouth dropped in shock while she backed away from the bar. I glanced over my shoulder wondering what the fuck was wrong with the girl, and standing by the door I noticed four shady looking characters scanning the bar area, obviously looking for someone. Two of the guys were wielding hefty sticks. Suddenly there was loads of shouting and swearing; the four made a violent dash towards a group of guys sitting by the pool table. I looked on in shock, as all hell broke loose. I stood rooted to the spot as everyone in the pub joined in the fracas, and when I say everyone I mean everyone; even the guys from work got involved. Now, for some unknown reason I must have been invisible, no one came anywhere near me! I just stood watching guys getting bottled and bashed with broken table legs. All over the pub there were guys thumping and beating each other to a pulp; and me, well I was totally overlooked, as if I wasn’t there. After the incident, my workmates made a startling revelation; they reckoned I’d left the pub before it all kicked-off. When I told them everything I saw and that I was standing at the bar, their response was, “bollocks, you weren’t even in the pub.” To this day I don’t understand what happened; the whole incident left me confused to say the least. However, there’s one thing I know for certain, I was definitely in the boozer when it happened!
    I recall another amazing incident that happened a few years earlier. I was sent with four other guys to do some work on the GPO tower opposite New Scotland Yard. A hoist and gauge were erected up the side of the building and it was my job to tie netting around the gauge with zip-ties. Well as you do, you start from the top and work your way down. Three floors below, the guys were busy ripping up floorboards, getting the area ready for its refurbishment. Picture the scene: I’m twenty floors up on the inside of the gauge with no safety harness. I’ve tied and dropped three rolls of netting down the outside. While I’m zip-tying the netting, I lost my footing and slipped, falling down the inside of the gauge to certain death! The second I slipped, one of the guys three floors below decided to open the window and throw two scaffold boards across the window-sill and onto the gauge’s bar. I landed with a massive thud and bounced at least ten feet into the air. I then grabbed the side of the gauge, sighing with relief, hanging on for dear life. The guy stood, gobsmacked, staring in disbelief. Well, apart from a fractured wrist and a few bruises I was alright and to this day I am indebted to the young Polish labourer, who I might add didn’t know why he threw the boards out in the first place. Now that’s spooky! Or is it?
    Over the next few weeks, I started to take up badminton down the local gym in Beckenham, playing with Edward and his new girlfriend, Stephanie. Edward was nearing his seventeenth birthday and was proving to be a chip off the old block, which apparently didn’t go down too well with his mother for some strange reason. So, we played badminton in between going to watch QPR; our trips to Loftus Road were memorable, if somewhat frustrating. We’d have lunch, go down to Shepherd’s Bush market and then onto the game, where invariably the R’s lost. It was during this period that tragedy struck the hoops, relegation to division two. Gerry Francis jacked and the king of one-liners took over in the shape of Ian Holloway. Miracle worker would be an understatement: the club skint and in administration, Holloway guided the hoops back to somewhat respectability. Mind you, there were a few major embarrassments along the way, like being thrashed by Arsenal 6-1, getting turned over by part-timers Vauxhall motors in the FA cup, and worst of all being mauled by Cardiff at home 4-0, then a little later getting stuffed by Leeds United 6-1 after we scored bloody first. Those examples are just a few I’ve had to endure since our relegation from the Premiership. Gone are the days when we stuffed the likes of Man Utd, Chelsea, Arsenal and Liverpool. Why, oh why, can’t we find another Ferdy, Don Mason, Rodders or even the mercurial Stan Bowles to bring back the glory days, or at least someone who can score goals on a regular basis?
    I recall coming home from Rangers’ stadium after watching the lads beat Grimsby 1-0, only a wonder goal from Mikkel Beck separating both sides. After dropping Edward off, I returned to my flat around 7:15 p.m. As I opened the front door my nostrils were greeted by a weird smell inside. On entering the front room I noticed hanging in the air the whiff of extinguished candles, like they’d just been put out seconds earlier. Now the last time I lit candles was Tuesday evening, four days ago, and I know the smell wasn’t there when I left with Edward earlier.
So where did the smell come from?
Maybe a neighbour had been burning candles and the smell had penetrated my gaff. Curiosity got the better of me, so I knocked on my neighbours’ doors above and below me; nothing. None of them had candles to burn anyway, and José next door was on holiday, so the mystery remained.
    That night, I went to bed around eleven, after watching a film on Sky. I lay in bed, tossing and turning, until eventually I dropped off to sleep. I woke suddenly to the sensation that I was prodded on my shoulder, and glanced at the alarm clock: it was 3 a.m. I turned over and lay on my back, staring into the gloomy darkness of my bedroom. Then it happened, I started sniffing, my nostrils tingling with the smell of Jasmine and Lavender. I could have sworn I’d just woken up in a florist’s. I instantly knew it was my nan, letting me know she was there with me. I sat up in bed, smiling to myself, taking deep breaths, and wondering if the candle whiff was down to Nan as well. On quite a few occasions I’ve had visits of this nature; some have been slightly alarming, but not fearful. I decided to seek some advice from a clairvoyant or medium, which I did a week later. This particular medium came highly recommended, so I arranged for a sitting on a Thursday evening. I arrived in the picturesque village of Keston, Kent at 7:15 p.m. and walked around the village, until I came across Madame Tyrone’s quaint cottage. After several knocks on her door, she finally answered looking a bit perturbed. I had the distinct feeling I’d just disturbed her. Now there’s one thing I’ve learnt in my life and that’s not to judge a book by its cover, if you get my drift.
    Standing before me was a really tall young woman in her late twenties, very pale in completion, her eyes heavy from sleepless nights.
    “You must be Eddie?” she said forcing her face to crack a slight smile. “You’re early. I was just meditating when you knocked.”
    “Oh, I’m sorry, didn’t think,” I said apologetically.
    I looked her up and down, and instantly doubted her ability to communicate with the other side; what an awful assumption. She looked like she’d be more at home propping up the bar in a nightclub, I thought.
    “Come in, Eddie,” she beckoned, pointing towards the lounge area.
    I strolled in towards a large round table, a crystal ball and tarot cards were strategically placed in the centre. Either side two candles were flickering from the draught coming in from the front door.
    “Please sit down,” Ms. Tyrone suggested.
    She turned the room’s lights off and lit another two candles, and then sat opposite me; we sat in silence for a few moments. She just stared icily into my eyes, there was something about those grim, staring eyes that sparked doubt and suspicion in my mind; she looked sort of dodgy, like a victim of a ravaging vampire attack. I started to feel uneasy and uncertain in her company, although that feeling soon went, when she leant over and held both my hands. The warm and tingling sensation from her hands made me feel at ease, she stared at me and slowly tilted her head. I sat rigid, staring at her with the most elaborate poker face you’d ever seen. No way, I thought, that I would say or do sod all to give her any info, but as it turned out she didn’t need any. She started blabbering on about this, that and the other, when suddenly my ears pricked up to the name of Terry.
    “He won’t come through. I can feel him, he just refuses to join us, he knows you’re here, Eddie. Anger, so much anger. He hates you with a vengeance,” she whispered. “Is your father alive, Eddie?”
    “Yeah, why?” I said, thinking you’re the medium, you tell me!
    “I don’t know why. There’s something going on. It’s been going on for centuries. I feel, and I could be wrong, but I feel that they are one and the same. I mean, it seems they’re both feeding off each other with the sole purpose of getting to you!”
    During the brief silence that followed her amazing statement, my initial thoughts of Ms. Tyrone were blown to oblivion!
    “Tell me something I don’t know, Ms. Tyrone?” I asked.
    “The pattern of your life over the next few years will change dramatically. Your insight will grow stronger and stronger. The path you’re on now will change; this will be out of your hands. Something completely alien to you will fill the remainder of your term in the mortal realm. However, you still have some major hardships to overcome, until you reach your purpose in life. Having said that, ‘they’ will help and guide you even more now than before, because you’re nearly there!” She smiled, a gleam in her eye.
    I then went on to explain about all the strange smells I’d encountered over a period of time. She reckoned it was the spirit world letting me know that they were there, and that it could be my nan or my guardian angel, or even both. Well, I didn’t know what to make of her revelations, or that in a few years from now, something I would never dream of, would present itself. I left the cottage thinking that she was top quality; only time would tell regarding her statements. I walked through the village to where my car was parked, my mind asking all sorts of questions.
Could there be some sort of spiritual war going on between Terry, my father and my guardians? Is that why bad follows good? If that was the case, then it’s happening all around the globe, a continuous unseen war between the mortal world and spirit realms!
Food for thought, though, eh?
    Over the next few weeks, my right wrist and elbow started to give me more jip, and yet again I had more cortisone injections. This time, the mobility of my arm took longer to return and I found it very painful and extremely difficult using a hammer, let alone heavy plant. I knew that somewhere along the line I’d have to give up working in the construction industry. But what could I do? No qualifications and a total dumbo at school. Couldn’t write or spell properly and never had a clue how to operate a computer. So what chance did I have of earning a living outside the building game? None! So I soldiered on, using wrist and arm supports for work and playing badminton. The contract at Beckenham was nearly completed, so I made myself busy looking for alternative employment, not wanting to be left in the lurch again. I was successful securing myself a start for two months’ time at a pharmaceutical company in Beckenham; the job title of maintenance operative was ideal for my ailing arm.
    After Beckenham had finished, I started work for the pharmaceutical company. Well I thought I’d landed on my feet big time; the job and amenities for the staff were top drawer. The only annoying part was all the security regulations and over the top health and safety system, needing permits to do this and that, which actually slowed the work schedule. On site was a gym, catering for badminton, five-a-side football and fitness classes. There was also an amazing restaurant, which had an excellent menu. All the employees were great and friendly and never looked down on me because I was just a manual worker. The first four months were unbelievable and I actually thought I would stay with the company until retirement; that’s how much I enjoyed working there. Then, like everything else in my life, it all went pear-shaped. I recall arriving for work and signing in at the desk; as I glanced down the register I noticed that I’d already signed in. ‘Eddie Allen’ had signed in an hour earlier.
    Feeling somewhat confused, I asked the receptionist if she could clear up my confusion. What she told me threw me back a bit; apparently ‘Eddie Allen’ had worked on site for the past year; he was an electrician. When I asked what he looked like, she said she couldn’t remember. I thought it really strange that I’d never bumped into him, either at lunch on site, or anywhere else, in fact. I thought I knew all the trades on site. I mean, there weren’t that many, about a dozen or so. So where the hell was this guy who had my name and same bloody signature? All that week, I searched high and low for him without success. I even put a note on the noticeboard, asking him to give me a ring on my mobile, lying that I had an important electrical problem on site to sort out, but nothing. This made me even more intrigued and determined to get to the bottom of the mystery. After painstakingly searching for him and boring the arse off everyone I came into contact with during the day, I gave up; thinking he must be a ghost or something.
    The following Monday, I arrived for work as normal, signed in and scanned the register looking for him, nothing in the book. I then turned back pages, going back over the last week. He was here Saturday at 7:30, so was I at 8:15, and there were only five of us working on Saturday. I knew the other guys.