Ghosts of Home

Chapter 2

James took another sip of his Coke as he looked out of the window in the waiting room and watched night slowly turn to day. He watched the traffic building on the road outside, first a couple of cars, then a few more until a steady stream came and went with the regular rhythm of the traffic lights.

The hospital was coming to life too, but it was still fairly quiet. A few more nurses scurried around and, for the first time, James became aware of a few patients being wheeled around in wheelchairs or shuffling up the corridors in their slippers and dressing gowns.

James had left his dad pacing the corridor outside the room from where they took mum down into the operating theatre. That had been over an hour ago. Dad's constant pacing had started to annoy James so he had come to the waiting room to get away from the stress and the tension. Not to mention the guilt.

His dad had told him, vaguely, that there were 'complications' and mum needed an operation to help her and the baby. James knew his dad was protecting him; he knew his dad knew more, but he didn't mind. He didn't need to know. James was worried enough as it was without knowing all the details. He was convinced that it was all his fault.

James thought back over what had happened since they had moved to the new house, 3 months ago, and he recalled so many moments when he had moaned, shouted, stormed off angry and blamed his mum and dad for dragging him out into the country away from his friends, his school and the life he loved. With each memory, James shuddered with embarrassment, picturing the look of frustration and anger on his parents' faces every time he was unreasonable, moody and awkward.

There had been the time they visited the ruins of an old castle not far from the new house, which would normally have been something that James would enjoy. He realised that mum and dad must have taken him there to cheer him up. Mum was pregnant and dad was busy so they could have done without it and James felt a wave of guilt wash over him as it dawned on him.

The door clicked behind him and James was jolted out of his painful memories. He turned around to see an old man shuffling through the door, trying to hold the door, while wheeling in a framework with a bag on it that he was attached to via some tubes.

He stopped, the framework wedged in the open door, and looked up at James. 'Give me a hand with this, would you, son?'

James put his Coke can down and ran over to the door. 'Sorry. Yeah, sure'. He wedged the door back against the wall and twisted the frame a little to try and get it through the door. The old man just looked down, wheezing slightly.

With a little jolt, James managed to free the wheel of the frame so the old man could get into the room. He looked at James with his pale blue eyes, deep wrinkles etched into his face and smiled. 'Thanks, son. They'd have found me stuck there next week if you hadn't've helped'.

James stood back to allow the old man space to get into the room, keeping the door wedged open with his foot.

Wheeling his frame slowly, the old man approached the drinks machine. James let the door go and it clicked shut behind him. He walked over to the table, retrieved his can of Coke and went back to looking out of the window.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the old man fumbling around in a little leather purse for some coins. He could see the old man's hands shaking, and then he heard the clinking sound as the old man dropped some money on the floor.

He sighed, and was slowly stooping down to get the coins when James put his can down and walked over to the old man. 'Let me get that,' he said, bending down to pick up the coin.

He put the coin back into the old man's hand, noticing his crooked fingers and paper thin skin; it seemed almost see through, like tracing paper, the veins clearly visible underneath. The old man turned his pale blue eyes back on James again. 'Thanks son. These damn fingers are no good to me now. They just don't do what they're told.' With that, he smiled again, broader now.

James could see he was going to struggle. 'Here, let me.' He held out his hand to the old man, who hesitated for a moment before handing James the coin.

James put the coin into the slot on the drinks' machine. 'What drink do you want….um…Mr?' James really didn't know how to address strange old men.

'Jerry. Call me Jerry. And tea. A cup of tea would be nice. I was asleep and missed the rounds this morning. Need a cup of tea to get going in the morning.'

James made the selection, put the cup under the spout and watched while the tea was poured into the cardboard cup. When it was done, he handed it to the old man, who took it in his shaky fingers. 'Here you go'.

'Thank you, kindly, son. Much appreciated'. He slowly took a sip of tea as James turned around, picked up his can and went back over to stare out of the window.

Silence crept into the waiting room. The distant hum of the passing traffic and the hospital's air conditioning made James realise just how tired he was. He sat down in one of the empty chairs with a sigh.

'Can't be that bad, can it?' asked Jerry, who was standing behind James, slowly sipping his tea.

James looked up. He could feel a lump rising in his throat as he thought about his mum, in the operating theatre and the look of worry on his dad's face. 'I...I…..I don't…'. He just couldn't get the words out. They were stuck in his throat.

Feeling a wave of emotion and his eyes welling up he pretended to be interested in the traffic outside. He didn't want to cry in front of Jerry. He didn't know him; he was a stranger.

Staring at the passing cars he tried to compose himself, fighting off wave after wave of emotion. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Jerry had shuffled up behind him. James had been so consumed by his sadness and trying so hard not to cry that he hadn't noticed.

'It'll be alright, son. Don't worry yourself too much. Whatever it is, it will work itself out. You'll see.'

James couldn't respond. He was concentrating so hard on not giving in to the tears and the sadness, the worry and the guilt, that he couldn't form the words to respond.

Jerry leant forward a little, so he was almost at James's shoulder. 'Who is it? Your sister? Your mum?'

Something silently broke deep within James. He felt his body shudder a little and then tears, hot guilty tears poured down his face like a dam had been breached. He had no control over it. Quietly, staring out at the morning traffic, cars full of people innocently going off to work, on the school run - James let the tears stream silently down his face.

James sat there for some time, he had no idea how long, while the tears streamed down his face, his body shuddering as the grief left him. Jerry just stood there, saying nothing, with his hand on James's shoulder. And that was all James needed.

After what seemed like forever but was probably no more than a couple of minutes, James began to compose himself. He had been lost in thought, in the guilt of how hard he had made it for his mum and dad, and how much strain that must have put on his mum. He was so selfish and he hated himself for it.

James realised that he must look a mess. His face was wet with tears and his nose was running. He tried to rub away the tears but just smeared snot and tears across his face. Jerry handed him a folded white handkerchief. It was delicately embroidered, brilliant white and had the initials J T ornately sewn into the corner.

James used the handkerchief to wipe his face and blow his nose.

After he had finished he turned to hand the handkerchief back to Jerry who had stood back a little. 'No, it's ok. You keep it. I've got plenty. I've got a whole drawer full of them at home. My mum always told me to never leave the house without one cos you'll never know when you might need one. And she was right. You should always have a hanky.'

James smiled. 'Thanks,' he said while looking at the hanky.

'Plus I don't really want it now it's full of your snot'.

James laughed. He blew his nose again and stuffed the hanky into his hoody pocket.

Jerry shuffled up alongside James and lowered himself into the chair next to him. 'Now why don't you tell me all about it. I'm a good listener. As long as it's not too boring cos I tend to drop off quite easily.'

James smiled again and then he told Jerry the whole story. He told him about his old house, his friends, the move, the baby, his arguments with his mum and dad. He told him how guilty he felt about how he'd been behaving, but he couldn't help it, he just didn't like the new house.

James felt so comfortable talking to Jerry. Maybe it was his way. Or maybe it was the fact that since they had moved, it had just been him, his mum and his dad. He didn't really have any friends at his new school; he hadn't been there that long. So he had no-one to offload his worries onto. At home he had gran, his friends and even Aunty Phil. Aunty Phil was a great listener. She was almost totally deaf but she could lip read and she had an endless supply of Wagon Wheels.

It felt good just letting it all out. James felt lighter. He felt more able to make sense of the chaos in his head.

James finished by telling Jerry about the night they had just had. About his mum in so much pain and how worried he felt. About the baby and the complications. And about the worry in his dad's eyes. He had never seen his dad look that worried and it had freaked him out. It had also made him realise that he had made this bad situation all the more worse, which was why he was wracked with guilt.

After he finished, there was silence. James had been talking to Jerry while they sat, side by side, watching the sun drag itself up over the horizon. James checked to see if Jerry had fallen asleep.

Jerry was just staring out past the traffic to the horizon beyond. Suddenly, he brought his hand down on James's knee. 'Listen. You sound like you've got it all worked out. You're more aware than I ever was when I was your age. How old are you, 13?'

'Nearly. I'm 12.'

'You see? You've got to realise that it's ok to have these feelings. Of course, you are going to give your mum and dad a hard time sometimes. That's what kids do. Lord knows, the scrapes I used to get into and the trouble I caused my mum and dad when I was your age. But didn't I pay for it? Used to get the slipper. Anyway, you being a pain in your mum and dad's backside has got nothing to do with what happened here tonight. That baby hasn't got a clue what's going on out here. Not yet anyway. But what is important is that you've realised where you went wrong and you feel bad about it. Your mum and dad obviously love you a lot, and they are going to need you to be a great big brother to your new little brother or sister.'

James felt the emotions rise again. He pictured his dad's face and his mum's pained expression. 'But what if…. What if they're not? What if something happens with mum… or the baby?''

Jerry looked him straight in the eye. 'They will be fine. I promise you. I can feel it. When you get to be as old as I am it's like sitting near a door. You feel it open and close. Since we have been sat here, I've only felt it open. They'll be fine.'

James knew that Jerry was just trying to make him feel better. But sat there, looking into the old man's pale blue eyes, he truly believed it. Surely, if something had happened to his mum he would feel it. Deep down inside.

'What you need to do, and you know this already, is stop feeling sorry for yourself. You need to give your mum and dad a big hug and be strong for them. They already know that it has been hard for you. It's hard for anyone to move away, especially a young lad like you, with all your friends and your school. But you need to just accept that, and be the young man that you are already growing into. Understand that it will all be alright, as long as you all love and trust each other. As a family.'

'Yeah. I suppose', said James. He agreed with the bit about being strong, but he was never sure if he would ever love his new house and new school.

'There's no suppose about it.' continued Jerry. 'You keep that family close. You don't want to end up like me.'

'What do you mean?' asked James.

'Well' said Jerry, looking back out at the trees as the sunlight filtered through them, leaving dappled spots of gold on the lawn outside the window. 'An old codger like me. Either in this place, all alone, or in the old people's home out on the Watton Road, surrounded by people but all alone.'

James was confused. 'How can you be all alone if you are surrounded by people? I don't get it.'

Jerry looked James in the eyes again. 'Oh, there's loads of people there. But they're not my people. Not my family.'

'Where's your family?' asked James. 'Don't they come and visit?'

'No son. I burnt that bridge years ago. My eldest son lives in America with his wife and kids. We haven't spoken for 15 years. Not since my Elsie died.'

James felt terrible for asking. 'I'm so sorry.'

'Don't you worry about it. She had been ill for a long time so it was kind of a relief in the end. Like you with your mum, I hated to see Elsie suffer. And David, that's our son, came over right at the end. He just didn't understand. I was tired. I'd had enough. Elsie had been fighting for so long, she was tired and I could see the fight go out of her eyes. David, well, he…. He just didn't understand. He accused me of not caring, of not loving her…. And, well, it caused a big row and we've not spoken since. Probably won't speak again now.'

Jerry let his gaze fall into his lap and James noticed how he had been twisting the cord of his dressing gown around his hand. James put his hand on Jerry's shoulder. 'Have you tried talking to him?'

Jerry didn't look up. 'Oh, yes. Loads of times. In my head. But I never got round to doing it. Too much water under the bridge, you know. And now? I don't know what I'd say.'

Jerry seemed to shake himself out of his memory. 'Which is why you need to listen to this old codger and keep your family close. Friends will come and go but you always need your family.'

'Well, I think you should call him. Or you could send him a card. Tell him….'

Both James and Jerry heard the click of the door and James's dad came bursting in. He looked so tired, but strangely energetic.

'Oh, thank God. Here you are?' He looked from James to Jerry. 'Oh, hello. Come on James.'

James looked at his dad. He wore the exhaustion like a costume; even his clothes looked tired. 'This is Jerry, dad. He lives on the Watton Road by us. He gave me his hanky.'

His dad looked at Jerry. 'Oh, ok. Thanks. Look James, we need to go, now.'

James stood up and drank the dregs of his can of Coke. 'Sorry, Jerry. Gotta go. Thanks for the hanky….. And the chat.'

Jerry looked up at him. 'You're welcome, son. And remember what I said.'

'I will Jerry, thanks'.

James's dad was getting more agitated. 'Come on James, we need to go.'

Jerry reached out and put his hand on James's arm. 'Before you go. Did you say you lived on the Watton Road too? But there aren't any houses out there?'

James's dad interrupted. 'Yes, Not exactly on Watton Road. Just off it, actually. Up Meadow Lane. We've just bought Hallon House.'

Jerry's eyes lit up. 'Hallon House? Really? Oh, I know it well. Spent many a happy day in my childhood at that place. It's a beautiful house.'

'Yes, it will be', said James's dad. 'But it's in a bit of a state at the moment. Needs a lot of work.'

'I can imagine,' said Jerry. 'It must be 20 years since anyone has lived there. Oh,' he chuckled,' you really have got your work cut out'.

'How do you know it, Jerry?' asked James.

'Oh, my grandfather used to do the gardens there, years ago'.

'Come on, James, we really have to go. Lovely to meet you Jerry, but we have to go.'

'Bye, Jerry', said James as they headed for the door. 'Where are we going, dad?'

'Your mum's coming out of theatre any minute,' replied his father. 'And you need to come and meet your baby brother.'

The door clicked behind them as they bundled out into the corridor, leaving Jerry, smiling to himself, watching the beauty of the morning unfold through the window.