A Cockney's Journey (43 page)

    My relationship with Julie and her daughter Danielle was also moving in the right direction. Dan and I really get on well. I find her a complex soul with deep inner feelings she keeps buried. It took me years to get to know her; I think it was about three years before she opened the door; unbelievable! Having said that, what a ‘diamond’ - heart of gold, even if she’s got a short fuse! Doesn’t suffer fools gladly, that one, and whoever lands her has his work definitely cut out!
    My second year at college got under way, and analytical methods were done and dusted! I had no response whatsoever from all the CVs I sent, and I must admit to feeling very low and despondent as the term started. The workload we had during the second year was phenomenal. I spent hour upon hour sat in front of my computer, completing the high level of course work; sometimes I would study seven days a week just to finish certain projects. My private life was non-existent, which caused some friction between Julie and me. But by and large, she dealt with my studying quite well. I recall coming back to my flat on a Monday night, after spending the weekend at Julie’s. When I entered my flat I was confronted by that same smell I encountered a couple of years earlier, but this time to my astonishment not only did the flat smell of spent candles but on the coffee table lay a box of matches with three spent sticks on top.
Was it a message or was I being told that I’d been visited yet again? Why?
I knew the matches were nothing to do with me. I very rarely used them, preferring my lighter.
    My mind was buzzing, wondering what was going on when suddenly I heard a click and I was plunged into darkness. I lit my lighter, walked into the kitchen and opened the meter box, noticing the lighting switch was pointing in the off position. I flipped the switch up and flooded the flat in light, immediately the switched returned to the off position. While I was going through the same motion again, my house phone rang. I fumbled around in the dark, searching for my cordless phone. When I answered, it was Julie, asking if I was alright. While chatting, I walked back into the kitchen and switched the lights on again. In front of my very eyes, I saw the switch drop to the off position once again. I instantly had this strange sensation that I wasn’t alone in the flat. I can’t explain how I felt; it was just so weird, like I was being watched or something. So I ran round the flat, turning off everything to see if one of the lights was tripping the box. I returned to the meter box and went through the same procedure; this time I stood in the dark, pointing my lighter at the switch, and again the switch fell to the off position. Nothing could have tripped the switch, because sod all was on. While I continued my chat with Julie, I started to explain what was happening when I heard yet another loud click. I was now getting a bit pissed off with what was going on. So I stood in the front room in total darkness and shouted out, “OK, enough is enough, I know you’re here, so give it a bloody rest will ya and stop winding me up.” Julie must have thought I’d lost the plot. Then suddenly the lights came on and to this day it’s never happened again.
    The following Monday I got a call from a guy called Mike Fielding. He was the contracts manager for a company based in north London. Apparently, he’d had my CV for a few months and asked me if I was available for an interview regarding the position of site manager. The interview was arranged for the following day at one of their sites in Croydon. The interview was an unbelievable success; I got offered a contract, which I duly accepted and was told that I could carry on with my college course. This is it, at last. All the disappointments were for a reason; Karma. My life had now changed! £30K a year, paid holidays, mobile phone paid for and petrol allowance. I had to pinch myself, just in case I was dreaming!
    So Yours Truly started to run his own contract, from demolition till completion of six new-build flats in Penge, South London, and once a week I would go to college. I was now working flat out, during the day and evenings. My goal was to pass my higher national certificate and stay in the construction industry as a site manager. Everything at Penge fell into place, no hiccups and no delays. I got on with all the contractors from the piling crew, ground workers, bricklayers and carpenters. I had to deal with building control and NHBC inspectors, I just simply slotted into the role of manager as if I’d been doing it all my life - amazing! I kept records of daily events and ordered materials when needed. Everyone informed me that I was a ‘natural’ at management. Forgive me for thinking that the old skint days were well and truly over.
    I recall one afternoon when Edward came to site on his day off. I could see in his eyes how proud he felt. His dad, the boss, all trades coming to my office for advice and standing with me going over the drawings. Edward just grinned at me, winking. Fond memories.
    Halfway through the contract, me, Julie, Danielle and a few of her pals spent a long weekend in Prague, just before Christmas 2004. We tried to pack in as much as we could, but really four days wasn’t enough. However, this magical city left a lasting impression on me, and I vowed to come back for another holiday. The walk from the old town gallows to the speaking stones of the Charles Bridge was full of ancient buildings and monuments. A thousand years of history, Romanesque, gothic baroque, neo-classical, art nouveau. Appreciate Prague’s historical development and unique architectural heritage to the full; looking over Charles Bridge at the river Vltava gives you an immense spiritual feeling, especially when standing next to the statue of Christ in the moonlight. It’s breathtaking. In the old town, we stumbled through a web of surreptitious passages and infernal alleys extending on all sides, infiltrating it completely. The haunted streets and alleyways of the old town are like the film set for a medieval ghost or phantom play! We actually felt slightly spooked standing in the labyrinth of alleyways, with the moonlight casting eerie shadows in every nook and cranny. They say that Prague is the most haunted city in Europe; a rogue’s gallery of ghosts and phantoms. One of the most amazing sights is the astronomical clock in the town square; my first impression was
Trumpton Town
, don’t ask me why, I ain’t gotta clue. I’ve never seen so many concert and opera halls in one place, their buildings were scattered all around the city. Julie and I went to see a production of
Bolero
at the Klementinum mirror chapel. Electrifying.
    We also visited Prague Castle and the astonishing Gothic Cathedral ‘St. Vitus’. Now, if you ever want to encounter sensational spiritual vibes you’ve just got to visit Prague’s cathedral. It’s a must. Our penultimate day coincided with the opening of the Christmas market. Wow! This is the most magical and fascinating market I’ve seen for a long time. So, in my life I’ve visited a souk in Saudi and the Christmas market in Prague. Two totally different places but both equally magical and mysterious. Walking around, looking at all the stalls, I shook my head in disbelief at what you could buy; all your presents for Christmas were just a fingertip away, absolutely brilliant! The sight and aroma of whole pigs being roasted on spits, along with gigantic pork and herb sausages, continuously made you feel hungry. My fondest memory of Prague is strolling around the Christmas market with Julie, wrapped up to the nines, in bitter freezing cold winter conditions, getting slightly drunk on cups of mulled wine, and eating lashings of pork.
    After our magical break, it was business as usual. Night after night I studied to make sure my course was successful. The site in Penge was fast approaching the finishing stage and my two year college stint was a matter of two months from completion. Edward turned into a useful golfer, giving Phil and me some serious lessons on the golf course. Boy, could he spank a golf ball. It was now June and summer had finally arrived. Julie and I started to make plans for a two week break in Spain. We decided to shop around and book for the middle to end of September. The final week of college was now here and I sighed with relief as I handed in all my assignments, feeling like a large weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Now all I had to do was wait to see if I passed this gruelling course. I kept everything crossed and just hoped. The site in Penge completed six weeks early and I received £1,500 in bonuses. I then signed a three year contract and received a £4,000 per annum pay rise. I felt on top of the world; my thoughts returned to all the bad times and the thought that they were definitely long gone filled me with glee, maybe Tyzak had finally given up on destroying me?
    I started making plans for the future. In my mind, I wanted to move from my flat and buy a cottage in a small village somewhere in Kent. I recall returning home from work after a meeting with the company’s bosses and contract manager; it was late, about 10:30 p.m. As I pulled up outside my flat, for some strange reason, I glanced up to my front door. I was surprised to see someone standing facing my door as if they’d knocked and were waiting for the door to open. The figure just stood there, the tree out the front cast dark shadows over the door and I couldn’t make out who it was. One thing was for certain, I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I entered the building and slowly walked up the steps to my floor. My thoughts immediately reckoned it must be a burglar or someone out with intent to do harm. But why me, I’ve never hurt anyone? I ran to my door fearing the worst, but to my shock, the figure had vanished. How, where and why I don’t know, but he’d gone.
    The following week my whole world came crashing down. Firstly, my monthly salary cheque bounced and then the ultimate stab in the back; I got laid off. The company had lost several contracts and reluctantly had to let me go. I was devastated and inconsolable; I went to the boozer and got hammered. The following morning I woke to the sound of the postman ramming letters through the door. I sat up in bed with a massive hangover, feeling really depressed and tearful. I staggered into the kitchen and made myself a cup of tea and returned to my bed with the day’s post. I sat staring at the morning sunshine in deep thought. It’s happened again when I least expected it.
    
Bloody hell, Eddie boy, you’re fucked again. Now what?
I asked myself.
I’ll tell you what Ed, you’re a good site manager; you’ll get a job anywhere, dust yourself down and move on,
I said, trying to convince and motivate myself.
    I took a sip of tea and noticed that one of my envelopes in my mail was rather large, like a calendar. I picked it up and read the label: “handle and open with care”. I opened the A4 letter and retrieved its contents. I stared at the enclosed document and burst out laughing.
    
What fucking good are you now?
Was this all a big joke from the cosmos, more grief and punishment, you’re having a laugh.
    I was referring to my Higher National Certificate. I had actually passed my two year course with a bloody Merit, so I got what I set out to do, but now found myself unemployed yet again. I got up and printed off loads of copies of my CV and posted them to all the major firms I could think of. I think I sent somewhere in the region of 65.
    After five weeks, when I didn’t even receive one acknowledgment from any of the firms I wrote to, I decided to go back on the tools. I needed to earn a living; the bills were now mounting up like they always have done. Nothing; I couldn’t find a start anywhere, so I put an advert in the local rags for private work. Again, nothing. It was like I didn’t exist, totally invisible. What the hell was going on? My brain couldn’t handle what was being thrown at me. Every avenue was blocked. I even registered with ten agencies and applied for a warehouse job; again, nothing.
    Then, suddenly out of the blue, one morning I got up, switched my laptop on and started writing a book. Why? I haven’t got a clue. I mean, two years ago I was just your average thick builder and now I’ve done a two year college stint and I’m writing a bloody book. For what reason? I can’t for the life of me tell you! Everyone says that’s what ‘they’ want me to do. My neighbour, Sharon, is a medium and she adamantly stated I would not find another job, telling me to write my story. She reckoned the angels would look after me, because that’s what they wanted from me.
    Well, believe it or not that’s exactly what has happened, I’ve survived nine months living on the dole; every time I was skint, something miraculous happened. So, if its true then I shouldn’t have any problem having my book published, but I won’t hold my breath! Because as you’ve read, there’s definitely something out there from another dimension trying to destroy me. While writing this book, going back over the years I’ve had deep thoughts and feelings regarding a certain person, who over the years, has interfered with my life’s pattern and brought me nothing but grief. I believe that Tyzak exists in some dark realm somewhere between the mortal and spirit worlds, and uses people like myself to enter our world and wreak havoc, when and where he can.
    What my life has in store for me now is a complete mystery. I would love to write another book. This time I’ve got a really good fictional plot in my head, but unfortunately it can’t be written on peanuts. So nine months down the line, I am thousands in debt and still unemployed and my 50th birthday is seven days from now. But for some strange reason, I’ve written a book and I never, ever thought in my wildest dreams that I would, let alone could.

About the Author
Born into a South London household, Eddie Allen grew up in Peckham and Old Kent Road during the 1960s, subjected to brutal beatings from his father, then homeless and thrown into fatherhood and marriage at the age of sixteen. His strong beliefs in spiritualism derive from his experiences during and since late childhood, beginning with a vision of his dead grandfather at the age of eleven. His journey is both unique and compelling - you will never read another story like his.
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