Son of a Serial Killer (18 page)

‘Just take your plate to nanny and ask for a bowl of ice-cream.’

Finley slipped down off his chair, picked up his plate, walked around the table, and gave me a wink when Esther wouldn't have been able to see. I love my nephew, cheeky little sod that he is.

‘Listen, Es, I know I got problems. I know it'll upset mum, me not being 'ere. And I know I gotta get off the gear, once and for all,’ I said, truthfully and open-hearted, as is the only way when speaking to someone who knows you better than you know yourself, ‘but to do that, I need a change of scenery. I need to get away from here. Like a fresh start, even if just for a couple of months.’

I think Esther knew deep down that it wasn't a completely bonkers idea, drastic action to cause a drastic change. The craziness of it almost made it seem like a good idea, the more I thought about it, anyway.

‘Just, as long as you sort yourself out, James.’

She reached across the table and placed her hands on mine, a big sister who has seen her little brother make more than his fair share of mistakes, and looked me straight in the eyes, to give me another one of those serious messages that she'd have to convey to me every now and again in my life.

‘Get clean, James. Just, get clean.’

Esther and Finley had left not long after eating, the day was drawing to a close and lately she was enforcing Finley's bedtime as never before, adamant that showing him who's boss would give him a bit of stability, and maybe a bit of direction in life at a later date. It crossed my mind that this was the sort of disciplined upbringing that we lacked as kids, although I didn't say anything to her or mum, of course. Besides, Esther turned out alright, so it would be unfair to put any blame on my mum for my shortfalls.

I had just finished doing the washing up when mum entered the kitchen and put a dirty cup on the sideboard. Why is there always something that appears just as you are drying your hands?

Mum rested her head on my shoulder as I washed up the cup and dried my hands again on the tea-towel.

‘So you've got everything packed, and you know where your passport is?’ She asked, again.

‘Yes, mum, for the third time,’ I said, ‘all packed, passport ready and cash changed up.’

I put the tea-towel to the side and turned to face her; I could see the sadness and worry on her face.

‘I just don't want you stressing out later when things aren't where they’re supposed to be,’ she said, putting her arms around me and pulling me close, ‘and your tablets, did you get to the doctor's for more tablets?’

‘No, mum,’ I replied, ‘I've stopped the tablets. I wanna try and do this on my own.’

I love my mum, although if you knew half the shit that I'd put her through these last few years, you'd be forgiven for thinking otherwise. She's always been there for me, wasted the last of her savings on unsuccessfully putting me through rehab, had me crying on her shoulder through bouts of depression, and was even the one who found me when I overdosed. I must be draining the life out of her; nobody deserves a break like my old dear.

Going away wasn't just for me.

‘It's not too late to change your mind and stay,’ she said, ‘You don't have to go through with this.’

‘Mum, I've quit my job, given up the flat and sold my car. It's a bit late to be getting cold feet, don't you think?’

‘I'm just worried about you being all the way out there by yourself.’

‘I know you are. But I don't want you to worry about me, I want you to start looking after yourself, do some things that you wanna do, for you, you know?’

I stepped back from mum's embrace and held her gently by the arms, looking into her eyes, and seeing the pain and torture in her soul.

‘I won't be gone forever, and when I'm back, I'll be back for good.’

I let go and slowly made my way to the door towards the hallway and stairs.

‘I'm gonna go and pack a few last bits then hit the sack,’ I said, and then turned to see her standing over the sink, wiping a tear from her cheek.

I rested my head against the doorframe and breathed out a gentle sigh. Nobody likes to see their mother suffer the way that she was clearly suffering, but I was the cause of the suffering, and knew that some time away from this sorry excuse for a life that I had built for myself would be a good thing for me, and ultimately a good thing for her, to see me come through it and shine like the younger me that made her proud and gave her the happiness that I see in her eyes when she is playing with Finley.

‘I'll wake you up before I leave in the morning, mum.’

I left her standing at the sink, no doubt about to examine the washing up I just did, not knowing that I knew she always checked the job I'd done, and Esther's too when she'd done it. Sometimes she'd redo a few bits. Did she really think we couldn't take being told our washing up wasn't up to scratch? I think maybe she thought we'd think she was a bit obsessive compulsive if she admitted it. She really was a little fragile; I'm glad that Esther and Finley would be here when I'm gone, because otherwise this personal project of mine wouldn't have been an option.

‘Get Clean’ by Jams N. Roses is available now on Amazon.

‘Finding Her Feet’ by Jams N. Roses: A contemporary tragedy.

Sample Chapters

1

The three sisters played by the lake, a short walk from the back gate at the bottom of the garden. It was cold, the middle of winter, and the girls were wrapped up as warm as they could be.

Michelle Spencer, the eldest of the three girls at ten years old, had been instructed by their mother to get the nuisance children out of the house so she could have some peace and quiet whilst preparing dinner.

The girls had grown bored of playing with their dolls and teddy bears so amused themselves by throwing sticks onto the frozen lake, seeing who could throw them the greater distance from the shore. A small collection of twigs and small sticks had gathered on the water’s ice blanket, though they were becoming more difficult to see as the sky darkened; only a trace of the winter sun remained.

The twins, Amanda and Samantha Spencer, aged seven, couldn’t throw as far Michelle. It began to agitate Sam, especially as Michelle would mock them and giggle at how feeble they both were.

Amanda found it funny when her big sister teased and laughed at her and her sister, but Sam didn’t look up to Michelle like Amanda did. Sam was a big character in a small frame, and had even screamed at Michelle that she was supposed to be the big sister, that things had muddled up inside their mummy’s tummy, and that Michelle should have been Amanda’s twin.

One joke too many at Sam’s expense had pushed her over the limit. She shoved her older sister as hard as she could, who fell backwards and landed on the hardened grassy patch by the side of the lake. Michelle laughed at her sister’s anger. She was used to seeing it and knew that retaliating wound only wind her up further, so resisted.

However, her laughter stopped when she noticed a small cut on her hand, probably from landing too heavily on a sharp flint that sat beside her. She picked herself up before telling the twins to follow her home.

Amanda still laughed, but unlike Michelle, she didn’t know when best to leave Samantha alone, to let her settle and calm down. Not wanting the fun to stop, Amanda grabbed Sam’s teddy bear from her coat pocket and threw it onto the ice.

‘Stupid,’ shouted Sam.

The twins watched the teddy bear slip along the ice before stopping a few meters from the edge of the shore, and then looked to Michelle for advice on what to do next. But she was halfway to the back gate by then and hadn’t noticed the latest drama to unfold.

‘You better go get it, Amanda.’

‘I’m not getting it. It’s your bear.’

Samantha knew that Amanda was as stubborn as Sam was feisty, and realized straight away that she’d have to get her teddy bear back herself. She took one more look to see if Michelle had seen there was a problem and decided to come back and help, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Careful not to slip over, Samantha took tiny steps onto the ice towards her favourite cuddly toy. She was grateful that the white ice wasn’t as slippery as she’d first presumed, and found herself approaching the bear with ease and confidence.

Amanda looked on as Sam bent down and picked up the teddy bear, then turned and gave a smug grin to the her younger twin sister.

‘Got it,’ she said, as she stuffed the toy back into her pocket.

‘Oi, you two, come on,’ called Michelle from the gate that led through the garden and up to the house.

Michelle saw that the girls hadn’t even started the walk back to the house, but worse than that, she saw that one of her baby sisters had ventured out onto the ice. She started walking back towards the lake.

‘Come on, Sam, it’s getting cold,’ said Amanda.

But Samantha didn’t budge.

‘I can’t move,’ she said, ‘the ice is breaking.’

Sam had heard a crack from beneath her feet, and whenever she tried to slide a foot forward and closer to the shore, another crack in the ice would appear.

‘Come on, Sam, just come on,’ pleaded Amanda. ‘Just do it, quickly, come on.’

Sam realized that staying put wasn’t going to help, but she was beginning to panic, and couldn’t bring herself to move her legs. She could clearly see the cracks appearing from under her shoes and spreading along the white surface.

Amanda saw Michelle approaching and urged her sister to hurry. Then she turned back to Sam, and for a brief moment their eyes locked.

CRUNCH

The youngest of the three sisters saw a tear run down the rosy red cheeks of her beloved twin, as a large crack split open beneath Sam’s right foot, before a final crunching of the ice below her feet was followed by a small splash, and Sam was gone.

Amanda stood frozen to the spot as Michelle ran screaming towards the lake. The eldest sister shook the youngest out of her trance and ordered her to go and get their mummy.

‘Go!’ screamed Michelle, ‘go!’

Amanda sprinted as fast as she could up the gentle incline towards the family home, as Michelle tried to get out on the ice to the hole that had appeared just a few moments ago, the hole that she had just seen had swallowed one of her little sisters whole.

CRUNCH

Michelle, bigger than her sister, couldn’t make it close to the hole without breaking more ice beneath her feet. She couldn’t move forward, but through the tears streaming down her face, she could see that Samantha hadn’t yet come back.

CRUNCH

She was forced back, and luckily made a leap towards the shore before a large chunk of ice broke apart beneath her and landing her with the same fate as her little sister.

Claire, the girls’ mother came running down from the garden, screaming at Michelle.

‘Where is she?’ Where is she?’

Claire slowly edged her way onto the ice a couple of feet along the shore, but again, the ice was too weak to hold any substantial weight.

Amanda stayed at the back gate, looking down towards the lake where her mother and Michelle jumped up and down where they stood, frantically screamed at the water, as if by making enough noise, Sam would miraculously rise up from the ice cold water, that smug smile that she loved to give so much plastered across her face.

She watched as her mother dropped to her knees, pulled a phone from her pocket, dialled a number and put the phone to her ear.

Then the lonely twin watched as Michelle tried to give her mummy a hug, only to be pushed away and shouted at.

Amanda swiped away some hair that hung down in her face, and made her way up the garden path and back into the house.

2

The body of Samantha was finally dragged from the water the day after she fell through the ice. A verdict of accidental death was recorded by the coroner and the funeral took place six days later.

Not once had Claire spoken to Michelle, since the accident. The mother was upset, but also angry, and for a few days, including the day of the funeral, she had been drinking heavily into the night, and then sleeping on the sofa for a good part of the days that followed.

The girls hadn’t been to school and the man of the house, Gordon, had taken as many nights off from his busy restaurant as he could afford.

Gordon Spencer was a nice guy at heart, but he didn’t really know how to show affection, or how to comfort his wife or his remaining two daughters. He was hurting of course, but instead of breaking down and giving up and getting angry like Claire, he just had to keep moving.

He kept himself busy by preparing food for the girls, sorting out some of the mess that had accumulated in their home over the years and even started clearing out the attic for some reason, probably so he didn’t have to see the three faces of misery on the females in the house.

The girls spent most of their time upstairs, away from the negative energy of their mother. Amanda had taken to sharing a bed with Michelle, not wanting to stay in the room that she previously shared with her twin. She hadn’t been sleeping well at all. She knew she had been sleeping a little bit at least, for she remembered waking up every morning in the arms of her older and now only sister.

She’d stay awake long into the night, that much she was sure of, and she’d picture that last look of fear on Samantha’s face. She wondered why she hadn’t cried, not once during the last week. Everybody else had shed tears, like her aunt and cousin, even the teachers and classmates from her school.

Her mum had cried everyday between glasses of wine and naps in the living room. Her dad had cried quite a bit too; though usually up in the loft where she guessed he thought nobody could hear him.

Michelle had cried more than most. She had lost her little sister whilst being in charge of the girls and her mother didn’t let her forget it. On a couple of occasions, Claire could be caught staring at her first born child with eyes like daggers, and Gordon had had to stick up for her and try to get Claire to act reasonably. Gordon knew that the death of Samantha was no more than a tragic accident, and defended his daughter like a man who had already lost one.

The start of the next week, Gordon had to return to work at the restaurant, and coincidently, the girls asked their father about returning to school. He said if they wanted to have more time to rest and get use to things then they could, but in his heart, he knew that the last thing they wanted to do was stay home and be near their mother, who grew increasingly agitated and difficult to be around as the days passed.

The girls became closer than ever before.

After school, the sisters would go to the restaurant and do whatever they could to help their father, be it cleaning the pots and pans or chopping vegetables. Of course, Amanda was too young to be of any real use, but there was no way she would go home on her own with her mother there.

The girls would be sent home by Gordon before it got dark, and if they were lucky, Claire would already be passed out by the time they got home. If not, they would be as quiet and courteous as possible in the hope of not aggravating her into abusing them verbally. One evening she threw an empty glass in the direction of Michelle. She missed, but there was no doubt that any bond between the two females had been broken forever.

Sometimes Claire would hug Amanda, and it made her feel guilty and awkward as the surviving twin knew what nobody else in the household knew, that she was the reason Sam had walked onto the ice that night.

Amanda knew that she caused the death of her twin sister, that she was the cause of her mother’s anguish, that she had played a huge part in the breakdown of the relationship between her two closest female relatives, and that the growing stress between her parents was also down to her.

Weeks later, Amanda began sleeping back in her old room.

She had drawn an invisible line down the middle of the bedroom and tidied up Samantha’s side of things as best she could. She arranged all of her sister’s clothes and folded them or hung them up neatly. She gathered Samantha’s toys together and placed them on two shelves that she had cleared and polished.

The last item that Amanda put in place on the higher of Sam’s shelves, the one at eye level, was the teddy bear that was recovered along with her corpse from the lake. Amanda only ventured into Sam’s side of the room at night to kiss goodnight the teddy bear, which she had recently started to call Samantha.

Sleep was still hard to come by for the youngster. She would often lay awake and listen to her family move around the house. Her sister would pretty much only move between her bedroom, the kitchen and the bathroom. Her mother stayed by the sofa, sometimes venturing to the bathroom and only ever into the kitchen for another bottle of wine, or whatever she fancied drinking on that particular occasion.

Every so often, Amanda could hear mother and daughter moving closer, arriving in the same place and then moving off in opposite directions. She could feel the tension in the air whenever they passed each other silently.

Gordon, usually home from the restaurant very late, would spend some time with his wife before making his way up to bed on his own. Sometimes they would argue downstairs, loud enough for both sisters to hear, sometimes they would make love, and sometimes they seemed to sit in silence.

Michelle would always check on Amanda before she herself went to bed, something that a lifetime ago, Claire would do with all the girls at night.

It was hard to imagine that a month or so before, the family was full of happiness and love, jokes and laughter. When Samantha lost her life in that lake, she took the life of her family with her.

Every so often, laying in the darkness all alone at night, unable to sleep with random morbid thoughts popping in and out of her head, Amanda would remember that she hadn’t cried over the death of her sister, and out of guilt, would dig her nails into her thighs in an effort to punish herself, hoping to force out the tears that she felt were the least she owed the world.

But she never cried, like she was dry inside, as if she was empty of real emotion.

‘Finding Her Feet’ by Jams N. Roses is available now on Amazon.