We eventually got home at mid-day.
Unbeknown to me, Maggie had arrived early and sought out Doctor Peters to find out why I was considered fit to leave. Luckily I had already spoken with the doctor and told him in no uncertain terms that I was leaving. He was not happy about it, and had gone so far as to contact the female police sergeant who had been at the hospital the day before.
Maggie, the doctor and the policewoman had descended on my room and tried to bully me into staying put. The policewoman had even used veiled threats with regard to my knives. But I was having none of it, and eventually, after absolving the hospital of all responsibility, I was wheeled out the back entrance to Maggie's car.
Some reporters had been snooping around the hospital the day before, but a brief statement had been put out by the hospital and the police to the effect that I was stable and out of danger, but that my condition was such that it would be a while before any light could be shed on my disappearance.
The way it was worded, I hoped that it would be some time before the press found out that I was out of hospital.
The drive from the hospital had been mostly in silence, just some small talk exactly as if we were total strangers, which I suppose we really were now.
Tony was in the window as we arrived, and he rushed out to help me from the car. I waved him away, saying that I needed to get used to the crutches, and then I hobbled from the car into the house.
But it was all an act, I could have easily walked without the crutches, albeit with a slight limp – I healed fast now, really fast. When I was being trained and made a mistake, my injuries would be left untended until my master deemed that I had learned sufficiently from the lesson that the pain brought. Only life threatening injuries would be healed. Later, as the changes to my body took root, it began to heal itself; slowly at first but now it only took hours for the most severe of injuries. The Doctor’s diagnosis of my condition had almost certainly been correct, but my body had not needed their intervention.
Seeing the house brought home to me that I really was not prepared for the return, not on any level. Emotionally I was a mess, better today than yesterday now that I had realised the truth of it, that Maggie and I would never really be together again.
But I was a mess none the less, and seeing my home, what it was and where it was, really bit deep. It was a suburban box, in a built up area of endless boxes bounded by small patches of green grass and black tarmac roads. It had always been this way, but only now, after ten long years away, did I really see it. They say that you can never go back, and it was so very true.
Maggie made coffee while Tony and I went into the Living room. I sat on what used to be my favourite armchair, and Tony sat opposite on the settee.
The silence between us stretched out until finally, Tony spoke, "Signing yourself out was really stupid, Dad. No need to pretend otherwise, Maggie phoned from the hospital and filled me in. What do you think you’re playing at? Maggie's worried sick about all this as it is, and now you've got her worrying about your health as well."
There was nothing I could say to that, so I settled for, "Go give Maggie a hand with the coffees, and then we can all sit and talk."
Barely two minutes later and he was back, tray of drinks in hand, with Maggie trailing behind. They sat together on the settee, silently staring, as I sipped at my coffee and tried to gauge Maggie’s reaction to what I was about to tell them. Tony, I believed, would at least listen and hear me out. But unless Maggie had changed considerably over this last year, she was going to flip her lid at any mention of other worlds, magic, monsters and the like. She was a practical, no nonsense, down to earth woman and had no room in her life for fantasies.
I had spent much of the night before and most of the journey from the hospital trying to decide what to say to them, whether to tell them anything at all. I eventually decided that I owed it to them, both of them, to at least try to make them understand despite all my conclusions from the night before. The challenge was how to pitch my tale so that it would not be immediately dismissed by Maggie as either lies and fabrication on my part, or complete madness. I had not a clue what to say, and my time was now up.
Maggie broke the silence, her voice strong and determined, “Well, are you going to start, David? I think we’ve waited more than long enough for an explanation.”
I put down my coffee. There was nothing for it but to tell it as it was. I would keep it short, a summary only. But I would tell it all. Well not quite all. I could not tell them about Anna; that was still too raw even after all these years. Could I even tell them of the things I had done, the atrocities I had committed?
I realised that they were waiting, the silence they had created had broken through into my thoughts. “Right,” I said, “Firstly I need to set some ground rules. I’ve already said this to you, Tony, but I need Maggie to understand too, so please hear me out…. As far as everyone else is concerned, and by everyone else I mean doctors, police, the media and absolutely everyone we know, my mother even, the story is that I do not remember anything at all about what happened to me over the last year. And it must stay that way. Before I say any more, I need both of you to promise that you will abide by what I have just said, and that you will tell no one, no one at all, any of what I am about to say.”
Maggie started to protest but Tony spoke over her, “I need to know Maggie, and if it means agreeing with Dad’s terms to get him to talk, then he has my word… You need to do the same. We’ve both waited long enough.”
Maggie turned to me and the look she gave could have frozen the surface of a lake. But she eventually relented and gave her word.
So I began my story, at least a summary of what happened to me. “What I am going to say is going to sound really, really far fetched, unbelievable even, but please be patient, just hear me out. You both know the start of it, I went for a walk, usual place, but my mind was too occupied to really enjoy it…. You remember Maggie, we had quarrelled that day and I just could not get it out of my mind.” Maggie flushed and opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off and went on. “Something attacked me, beat me unconscious and abducted me, took me somewhere else, another world—”
Before I had even finished the sentence, Maggie was on her feet, her eyes wide and her face contorted with anger. “What rubbish is this? You can’t seriously expect us to believe that you were abducted by aliens. You said that you would tell us the truth. That you would tell us what happened to you, what really happened. Not a bloody fairy tale fantasy.”
Tony stood, gently put his arm around Maggie and eased her back down onto the couch. “Please Maggie, we need to sit and listen to what dad has to say and give him a chance to finish. What he’s saying might sound ridiculous, unbelievable even, but we have got to give him a chance. In the hospital dad said that no one would believe him, that they would think him mad. So it’s not just something he’s making up here and now.”
He looked at me as he spoke next, “At the very least Dad, I think that you truly believe what you’re saying, but you are going to have to work really hard to convince me that your story is true… but I am prepared to listen and hear you out.”
Maggie stayed silent so I continued for a while longer. I told of how I was taken to Dar'cen, of how I was beaten and eventually escaped. Nothing of what I became and the things that I did. That would come later, much later, if ever at all. I told of meeting Jain and searching for a way home, and in mentioning that I slipped up – I mentioned the search, the long years spent hunting for a way back. Earlier I had thought through what I could say that they might be able to believe, and being away for ten years was something I intended to stay well away from for now. My story was incredible enough without introducing the further complication of a time difference, that even I did not understand.
Too late, it was out, and Maggie jumped on it immediately. “Years? What do you mean years? You were gone a year, so how could you have possibly searched for years? You’re even contradicting your own story now. This is complete and utter nonsense.”
I tried to speak, tried to explain that somehow I was sent back across time as well as returned home, that I did not understand it myself. But it was too late, it was all too much for Maggie. She did not believe my story, nor did she believe I was mad. She believed that I was lying to her, making it all up to cover something else that I was not prepared to confide in her. She felt betrayed, I could see it in her eyes, and to make sure there was no doubt about how she felt, she told me so to my face before she stormed out of the room.
I had expected no less really, but it still hurt. I had known in the hospital that Maggie would never believe me, knew then that there was no future for us. But I had hoped, prayed even for a different outcome. Ten long years yearning for her touch, to see her smile and hear her voice, all for nothing, destroyed by a few moments of unbelievable truth.
Should I follow her and show her some truth of what I had said? There were ways. I could call the knives to me, there in front of her. That should be enough in itself, but there were still other things that I could do. But what if I did get her to believe me, then what? Could I go on and tell her everything, confess to all I had done? What would she think of me then? No this was the better solution – she would hate me because, in her eyes, I had betrayed her and refused to tell her the truth. Eventually, it would drive us apart, Maggie would be free to move on and forget me, guilt free, and I could begin my search for a way to avenge Jain and the others.
That would be the best solution for both of us. But the thought of it hurt so very much; it was like losing Anna all over again.
Tony stood and said, “I’ll go after her, calm her down, and then we’ll come back.” I looked at him blankly for a second. I had forgotten all about Tony. All my thoughts had been for Maggie, for Maggie and myself, and what we were about to lose. How had he taken what I had just said?
Ashamed, I stood and hugged him, held him close for a moment.
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“I am sorry, Tony, really sorry for all this, for everything that has happened, for all I have done to you both. But there is more I have to tell, much more… and it is all true. But Maggie will never believe even a small fraction of it. I’m not even sure if you will."
As Tony tried to speak I held up my hand and stopped him. “Go and see Maggie. She probably needs someone now, someone to just listen to her. Don’t try and talk her round, it's pointless. She won’t believe me; I knew that before I even started, but I just had to try… I really do need to know what you think though, but that will have to wait. Go and see Maggie.”
Tony pulled away, his eyes fixed on mine. He looked confused, lost even. His look was the same as that which had filled his face when he was ten, and I had just explained why his father was not going to live with him anymore.
I could have cried right there and then had he not smiled at me and said, “It will be all right, Dad. You’ll see. It will be all right, it always is in the end. Remember? You always used to say that nothing ever goes right first time, but in the end it will all work out fine.”
And with that he turned and walked out after Maggie.
###
I had been back a week and had finally worked up the courage to visit my mother.
Mum and I had spoken over the phone a few times, but the conversations had been formal and polite, not at all how they’d been in the past. We had always been best friends, I suppose, and when I had split up from my wife all those years ago, it was my mother that I had turned to, she who had listened and understood, she who had given the advice that had seen me through it all. And here I was now dreading going to see her, dreading seeing the look on her face if I told her the truth of what happened, and equally dreading her seeing through my deception if I kept to the story that was now public knowledge – that I did not remember anything at all.
Tony took the day off work and drove. He said he would stay an hour or two and then drive back. I was going to visit with mum a few days and then travel back by train.
Mum lived in South Wales, a good hundred and thirty miles away. She did not drive, never learned to, and dad had passed away about seven years ago. Mum was a very active sixty seven year old; she still worked in the local market three or four days a week serving in a knickknack stall. She didn’t really need the money; she worked because she loved to get out and about, meet her friends and just have a good natter. Her one big vice was Bingo. She went along to her local club twice a week without fail, moaned like hell when she had a run of bad luck, but carried on going anyway until another win came her way.
The welcome I got from her was just what I needed, what I had missed on that first day back. No recriminations, no guilt, just a big hug, a few tears and a “Let’s have a cup of tea and you can tell your mother all about it.”
Tony had not been forgotten of course, mum had hugged him too, done all her grandmotherly duties, but had then explained that she needed to get to the bottom of my disappearance and would make sure I got home safely as soon as I had told her all she needed to know.
Tony’s hour or two was cut to a cup of tea, a quick visit to the toilet, and a peck on the cheek as he left.
I felt a little guilty, but was sure that he had wanted to get away as soon as he could anyway, rather than be in the way and have to try to make small talk.
Mum and I stood in the kitchen, each with the mug of tea that I had had to make. The offer of tea was a ritual that actually meant Go and make your mother a nice cup of tea. Next I had to go through the Do you want a sandwich? I’ve got some nice ham, and there’s your favourite cheese ritual. Mum always bought a slab of the cheese, a really mature Welsh Cheddar, when she knew I was coming to visit. I nearly cried when she mentioned the cheese. It had been almost ten years for me, and just seeing her had been emotional as hell, but the cheese nearly broke me. It was almost comical – after surviving all those years of pain and terror, a little old lady with a block of cheese almost reduced me to a gibbering wreck.
As Mum saw the look on my face, she took my hand and led me through into the living room, where we sat next to each other on the sofa. “Well, are you going to tell your mother what happened to you? Not what you’ve told the press, or poor Maggie and Tony, mind you. You tell me the real story or nothing at all…” She paused then for a moment, holding up her index finger to stop me from speaking. That was something mum had always done. It was one of the first things I learned as a child – if mum held up her finger like that, no one spoke, not even dad.
“But if you really don’t want to talk about it, say so now, and we’ll put it behind us. It will be as if it never happened. And I promise that I will never mention it again. You’re back now, safe and well, and that’s all that really matters.”
I knew I was welling up with tears as I choked out, “I have missed you so very much, Mum. More than you could ever imagine.” Then, as I sat sobbing in my mother’s arms, ten years worth of pain and horror poured from me like a torrent.
It was a gruelling few days, and that was without telling her the worst of it. Part of me thought it strange, trying to tell such a fantastic and horrific tale to my own mother. But she had always been very open minded, and I had always been able to talk to her about anything, anything at all. And Mum was a good listener. She was never judgemental, and always responded to my problems with good sound advice.
This time was not your average problem though, and getting her over the first hurdle – to actually realise that I really was trying to tell the truth – had been the hardest.
After that initial shock, we had sat in silence for a little while. Then, my face cracked wide into a grin, as mum said, “Right then, you make yourself comfortable, have something to eat and have a think about what you are going to tell me next. Mable will be here in twenty minutes and we’re off to Bingo. We can carry on when I get back.”
Nothing, nothing at all, got in the way of mum and her Bingo.
After that the rest was plain sailing, or at least far less difficult than it would be to tell Maggie or Tony, or anyone else for that matter.
Mum listened dutifully, asked the odd few questions here and there, and then when I got to the end of my reasonably well summarised tale, she simply said, “Well it is a really amazing, complicated and frightening time you seem to have had. Very, very difficult to believe, but I know when you try to lie to me, and you haven’t tried once throughout your whole story. You have held some things back though. I suppose they were the things you thought were too bad for your little old mother to hear. Tell me all of it, David, I can see that you need to get it off your chest. Come on, out with it… it can’t really be much worse than some of the things you have already told me.”
It was, though. Her face changed as I talked of the murders and the atrocities that I had committed. She looked drawn, older somehow, and her hand that had held mine throughout, tightened until it almost hurt. After I finished we sat in silence, our hands still clasped, for a very long time.
Finally mum spoke, her voice quiet and calm. “There is one thing I need to know, David…. When you were under this demon’s control you did some bad things, really terrible, evil things. But you were not yourself then, you had to do what he told you, he controlled you completely, you said. So this is what I want to know… do you blame yourself for the things you did, do you carry the guilt and feel that you need to somehow make amends, or have you been able to forgive yourself?”
The question surprised me, not because it was something I had not myself considered, but because of how perceptive mum was. She knew me, knew that I was an honest, good person. She, after all, had given me the morals that I had lived by all my life until I was taken. So if I had been able to forgive myself for those horrific deeds, then she too would be able to forgive me. I suppose she would have forgiven me anyway, but she wanted to know that I had come through it all unscathed, or if not unscathed, then at least whole and at peace with my past. I had thought about it, and had carried a great deal of guilt and self loathing about with me for a very long time after my escape. Then I buried it all deep down, covering it with my all consuming quest for a way home. Eventually, the camaraderie I shared with the others and the genuine friendship that they showed me, even knowing who I was and what I had done, had eased away the pain of what I had done, and made me realise that it really had been another person, not me at all. I think I must have forgiven myself then, at least on an unconscious level, because until this very moment I had never before really asked the question of myself.
“I will never be able to forget, Mum,” I said. “I forgave myself a long time ago, but didn’t realise that I had until this very minute, when you asked the question. Until this moment I have never consciously thought it all through, not actually asked myself the question. No Mum, I do not need to carry any guilt. I did not do those things. He committed the crimes, and he bears the responsibility.”
Mum smiled, a smile full of love, a mother’s smile. “Come and give your mother a big hug and a kiss… and then go and make us both a nice cup of tea.” And that was the end of it as far as she was concerned.
Over the next few days we talked of all the gossip she knew of, all that I had missed in my time away. Not a single mention of my dark times.
But on the last day, as I was preparing to leave, she shocked me yet again.
“You’re going to end up trying to go back there, aren’t you? To avenge your friends, I mean. I know you… you won’t be able to leave it rest. You might pretend to yourself now, but it will eat at you until you at least try. So promise me one thing… promise that you will come to say goodbye to your mother this time. Promise that you will come and see me one last time before you go.”
I was shell shocked at what she had said. She knew me better than I knew myself. I gave her a big hug, a kiss, and the promise. Then I left before her tears fell.
###
Being with my mother for those few days had perked me up no end; for a few days it had anyway. Now I was back with Maggie I couldn’t stop myself from brooding over the situation. I was home, had been home for over two weeks, and yet it was absolute hell.
Dreaming of being here, being reunited with Maggie and having a son again, was all that had kept me sane when I was taken. How could I have ever thought that it would work, that I could just step back into my old life? For years after I escaped him, I did nothing but search for a way home, never considering the years that had passed and how difficult it might be for all of us to re-adjust.
Ten years of my life were taken from me, yet for Maggie it was a year, a single year. But I knew that no amount of reasoning or argument would ever win that year back for her. Maggie would not listen to what I had to say, and I would not bend and tell her what she wanted to hear – a lie, a tale of infidelity, a tale of how I have wandered the world in the company of other loves, and have now returned to beg her forgiveness. She has not said that of course, but my mind could conceive of nothing else that she might listen to.
She needed to hear something she could comprehend. Something rational. Something she could forgive and eventually forget. Something that would allow her to have her life back as it was.
But I cannot give her that… too much has happened in my life, too much has changed. I have changed.
Yet I also knew that I could not leave them, not yet – I needed them both in my life for as long as I could stand the suffering and the lie that our life had become, for as long as they could stand it. For I knew that it hurt them too – Maggie cries when she believes that she is alone, and Tony’s smile and kind words barely hides the sadness, and sometimes, anger that lives beneath.
Soon, I tell myself. Soon I will make the break and free them from the torment I bring to their lives.
But not yet, not today. One day soon, when I have the strength to do the right thing.