Fall of Hope (Book 1): Real Heroes Don't Wear Capes (3 page)

Where
did that come from?

“
Yeah,
she's made a cake, so we can have a small celebration.”

“
Oh,
that's good. Danny said you two might have gone to a party later, but
his gran wants to see him, so I said we'd pop over later. Hope you
don't mind too much.”

Mind?

He
tries not to look as though the news is the best thing he's heard all
year..

It
will be the best if the night goes by without event.

“
She
wants to celebrate, you know?”

“
I
understand, Miss Summers.”

Having
Danny at fifteen makes Miss Summers only thirty, and she looks
amazing for it. Never having a Mr Summers around, she has always made
it clear on the “Miss” part. It sure made parents
evenings unbearable for Danny as all the boys ribbed him. They would
ask when they could “have a pop at her”. Although he got
peeved—it is easy to tell because he chews his lip whenever
he's mad---he never says a word against his mum. He can do nothing
other than fake a smile when she brings her toy boys home.

Bending
to pluck the rubbish up, her dark waves spill over her face and she
pushes them over one shoulder. The subtle bloom of her breasts grab
his attention, but he forces himself to stop staring before he drools
down his shoes. Blushing, he shuffles, trying to adjust himself
before she turns back.

When
she lifts back up, she disposes of the rubbish and drops the lid down
with an echoing slap.

“
Well,
I can see you got your F in dance,” she comments with a cheeky
grin.

He
is not in denial he would have received an F in dance had he took the
subject. That's if the teachers didn't throw him out before the
year's end.

“
Tell
Danny I'll catch him tomorrow then.” He blushes and tries to
settle himself by staring into his bedroom window where he spots his
mother.

“
Okay,
darling. Have a good evening, and don't eat too much cake.”

“
You
too. Not the cake though. I mean, I'm sure you can eat as much as you
want and stay in shape.”

As
he watches her enter her garden and close the gate, the ghost of a
smile still traces her luscious lips.

“
See
you later, Bobby,” she giggles.

He
slips the latch free and steps into the back garden. Each stepping
stone has animals posing as they do various activities only
appropriate in cartoons. One of these is a frog with his line cast
into a pond like
Jeremy Fisher
.

The
sweet scent emanating from the bluebells creates a tranquil
atmosphere, so does the secret hidden here.

His
mother took him into the woods from here as a child. Millions of
flowers grow wild in violet-blue masses there, scattered between the
trees. Their lazy scent fills the warm summer air like nothing even a
dream can conjure. She told him it's their special place; nobody else
ever wanders down the red brick byway.

When
they visited, they followed the trail until their legs grew tired,
but she held him back from going to the end on each occasion. She
promised one day it would be his time. As a naïve child, he
didn't understand why and still doesn't. He cannot understand how
their back garden can lead onto a strange, mystical land. Or how it
never shows signs of winter, or darkness there. The place is not
detectable from the opposite side as though his garden is a gateway
into another dimension, but none of this makes sense to him. It never
has.

In
winter, when his street becomes a white wonderland, the sun continues
to shine through the branches, radiating that same heat. The soft
breeze carries the hum of plump bees and the sweetest memories.

He
hasn't visited since his mother began having dissociative episodes,
so it may not even exist anymore. Only, he knows that is a lie
because he can feel its presence. Sometimes it even follows him down
into his sleep where he sees the most glorious of sights. Inside
their special place, he sees what lies beyond the flowers—things
not yet seen with the naked eye.

And
their garden is his mother's piece of heaven which she has tried to
recreate from those woods. She spends hours out here tending to
flower beds with her dress hitched-up. She is never happier then when
she has a watering can in hand, or when she sits on the bench and
allows the natural perfume to engulf her senses.

Bobby
asked her to go again as he was growing-up, but all she ever said was
“I can't anymore”. He argued, but it didn't change a
thing, yet she sure was sad about it for a long time.

The
first thing he notices as he steps foot into the kitchen is the
celebratory cake is nowhere in sight.

Why
would it be?

Outside
maybe doused in light, but in here it's the opposite even with the
curtains open and the lights on. His mother blames it on the house's
position, but it isn't. He doesn't know exactly what it is, but since
an early age, it felt as though a cloud was hovering above the roof—a
cloud that refused to move across the sky with the rest. There isn't,
he has checked plenty of times.

Danny's
house next door is always light, throwing the positioning out the
proverbial window. Each time he comes round, he doesn't fail to
question it. Danny says someone must have put a curse on his house,
whatever that means.

He
slings his bag off, pops the envelope in the front pocket and zips it
closed. He discards it on the scratched counter top and fetches
himself a glass of orange juice which is gone in one gulp.

There
is no pop in the house; his mother refuses to stock the fridge with
fizzy beverages. The same goes for chocolate and candy. Too much
sugar content, she says. The last thing she needs is a teenager high
on preservatives. Now, she does these things out of habit and nothing
else. He doubts she even remembers why any more.

The
kitchen is prim and proper. Above the bread bin is a board where old
photographs are pinned. They show them all smiling on holiday down
south, or in the park playing football and sucking on lollipops with
stains around their faces. There are post-its of old reminders—school
trips, clubs and friend's party invitations. They are mostly for his
older brother, but nothing relevant over the last three years. He
doesn't believe his mother has even touched it since their lives got
turned upside down.

He
closes the cupboard where his mother keeps a saving tin with money
inside for when he turns eighteen. It contains no life changing sum,
just a pound here and a tenner there when she could afford to do so.
There must be a thousand pound collected since his birth, but he
doesn't inquire.

No
dishes sit idle in the sink, or drying on the rack. No clutter or
crumbs line the surfaces from preparing any meal. Nothing is out of
place. Somehow, that has been a worse sight to come home to over the
years since his brother died because it creates an unbearable
atmosphere.

He
can still recall the days when his mother was too busy to bother with
chores. She would run around picking up toys and wiping his chops
with saliva on her thumb—something only mothers are capable of
doing. She used to make him peanut butter and chicken paste
sandwiches—his childhood favourite and perhaps the reason why
he has kissed no one outside the family.

She
would set out a blanket in the front room to have a picnic when it
was raining. Sometimes she would take him into the woods when his
brother was out because even when it was
chucking it down
outside it was sunny there. They had to careful though because it was
their little secret.

But
the past three years have been different. His father, Theodore Ames,
is the local drunk in their village. He has also been having an
affair on top of everything else he makes his mother endure.
Although, a string of affairs and one-night stands may be more
appropriate. Bobby is unsure who his latest squeeze is because he's
stopped keeping that worry at the forefront of his mind. The last, a
woman named Tracy Hurley, was nothing but the local bike who couldn't
hold her liquor.

Perhaps
they made a good team.

Bobby
would see her sliding out the alleyway by the house on his way home
with her make-up smudged across her face and her hair a greasy mess.
His father followed with his fly undone as she hitched her skirt back
into position.

Sometimes
she would wake Bobby in the early hours with her wailing and falling
all over the pavement. With her dress around her waist, she would
vomit in the hedges while his father crept inside.

Before
that, he was seeing the landlady of his local watering hole. Before
her, his babysitter. His father didn't think he knew, especially not
about it stemming back that far. Maybe at the time he hadn't put two
and two together, but in retrospect, he has always known. He can
pinpoint their descent into divorce territory back to his brother's
accident. Yet, it was surely going downhill as soon as it began.

It
is hard for Bobby to comprehend the logic of going elsewhere when you
have someone at home. Maybe he doesn't understand with the years they
have on him, perhaps only true grown-ups can.

But
love is love and cheating is not love.So why wreck a person's life by
doing so when you can just move on?

That
is all he can think, but perhaps it is more complex than simple
statements.

Theodore
demanded respect from both boys. As the years mature him, Bobby
understands his father must earn respect, and there is none left to
give his way. Love, he guesses is more complicated. Even with what he
has done to his mother over the years, he cannot stop the small cove
in his heart warming with love.

He
yearns for the father he hasn't connected with to take him to footie
practice like he did his brother. Or acknowledge him with anything
other than cruel taunts. But at least there is no pretence between
the two anymore. With his favourite child gone, he has no need for
the pleasantries that held them together for so long.

But
seeing what he has turned his mother into after his brother's death
disgusts Bobby.

He
doesn't know what she makes of her marital vows as she never talks
about it. Yet, he hears her sobbing at night when his father doesn't
bother coming home, or is drunk and snoring on the sofa. But Bobby
has learned that's as good as it gets. And it can get far uglier.

Turning
and grabbing his bag, he almost steps right onto his mother's tiny
feet.

“
Hey,
mum,” he smiles, startled by the look on the face staring back.

People
he passes on the street whisper questions of why she stays with his
father's “drunk ass” and why does she have no
self-respect?

Truth
is, when she took the vows standing in the registry office twenty-one
years ago, while pregnant with their first child, she meant every
word. Even if that means letting him walk all over her. She isn't in
it to keep someone hanging on while she disappears and wrecks the
other's life. She isn't in it to tear strip by strip of their will
and sanity away until they become a zombie.

No,
she's in it for the love, and stays for the promise she made that
day.

People
say those things on the street when they think he cannot hear them.
They say she is stupid to stay only for love, especially to a man who
refuses to change. They don't realise that with her sanity stripped,
all logic disappears. He manipulates her, blames her, belittles her
and uses threats. And when there is nothing left inside, the violence
comes.