Four Steps by Wendy Hudson

Four Steps by Wendy Hudson

Author:Wendy Hudson [Hudson, Wendy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ylva Publishing
Published: 2016-08-30T21:00:00+00:00


Chapter 26

John pushed his dinner away as the front door slammed closed. Why was the mashed potato always cold? The neighbour who had put it in front of him was friendly enough, but he didn’t trust her. She only appeared when his son was away, and he was sure she only meant to spy on him. Besides, she’d gotten him in trouble before; he knew she wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.

At least she was gone now and he was free in the house. His son didn’t give her the key to his room, instead only a warning came his way to behave or there would be consequences. He’d made the mistake of asking if his son was leaving to help the girl. A backhanded crack had been his answer. Now every time he looked in the mirror, he saw the livid bruise, and remembered never to speak of her again. Every time he opened his mouth, his jaw ached, and he remembered he needed to do it himself. He needed to help her. To make sure she was all right.

He slipped a piece of paper from his dressing gown pocket and glanced at the kitchen clock. He listened to it tick and noted the time next to the others he had. He read the line along the top.

My name is John Murray. I have to help the girl named Beth.

He knew the neighbour wouldn’t be back. The times for the past few days matched the ones he had written that day. He was on his own now and had hours to find her. He left the table and put his plate next to the sink like the neighbour had told him. He collected his glass and poured more water as he’d watched her do earlier. He sipped it and looked out across the unkempt garden, remembering a time when his wife had kept it pristine with lush green grass and colours galore.

The radio played a familiar song and he took a moment to enjoy the memory that went with it. He was sitting out on a chair with the radio balanced on the kitchen windowsill, a toddler at his feet in a sand bucket. Sean had been such a content child, occupying himself for hours, he went wherever his mother was.

John held a newspaper but didn’t read it. Instead, he watched as his wife pruned and weeded, the sun beating down on the top of her head, making her blonde hair glow like a halo. He’d been happy then, content. But only a few short years later, it would all be ripped away from him.

He had bonded with Sean when the same had happened to him. Drinking away their pain together, travelling, working, and hunting; they’d survived. But whereas John had eventually accepted his situation, the darkness had got hold of Sean. He could see it in his son’s eyes from the first time at the farm and it had never quite disappeared. John wondered again where Sean went on his trips.



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