Paul Grzegorzek - Flare

“You were in Afghanistan? Never!”

Emily nodded solemnly. “I was too. It was my job to fix all the machines that broke, and get water pumps working in the villages when they stopped working or their wells dried up.”

“That’s so cool! Do you think I could be a soldier when I’m older?”

Emily and I shared another glance, a habit we were quickly forming with Melody’s insistence on asking awkward questions.

“That all depends on who the army is fighting for, love,” I said, “but I’m sure Emily could teach you how to fix things if you want?”

“I’d like that. Then I can make sure everyone I like has water to drink.”

Emily smiled in the mirror. “That’s a good way to think. Once we’re settled in at home, I’m sure there’ll be loads of projects we need to work on. I’ll need your help if you don’t mind?”

Melody nodded eagerly. “Can I? I’ve never fixed anything before.”

“Neither has your father, apparently. I think we’ll all be getting our hands dirty soon enough.”

We crested the final rise and the driveway came into sight, my heart catching in my chest as I saw a glimpse of the small cottage beyond.

“We’re home,” I said with a smile, and Melody pressed her face against the window for a better look.

“I can’t see it,” she complained, “just those hills.”

“Ah, that’s why it’s such a good place,” I replied, “no one knows it’s there. It’s hidden behind the hills.”

Emily turned the Traveller into the drive, taking the uneven surface slowly. We pulled into the yard and I half-expected to see Ralph standing there waiting for us while Maggie ran in excited circles, but no one came from the cottage despite the kitchen door being open.

Dread clutched at my heart. Had we gone all that way and back again, only to find that some horrible thing had happened to those we’d left behind?

Emily stopped the car and held her hand out for the pistol.

“Melody, stay in the car,” she said quietly, her tone brooking no argument.

I turned and ruffled Melody’s hair. “They’re probably out looking for food,” I said with a cheerfulness I didn’t feel. “We’ll just check the cottage in case.”

We got out of the car, closing the doors quietly, as if the noise of the engine a few moments before wouldn’t have given us away to anyone inside.

Emily looked at me over the car and I saw the closest thing to panic I’d ever seen on her face.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” I said, but she shook her head.

“No, it’s not. The door is open and it’s raining. Mum never leaves it open when it rains. And if the door’s open then Maggie should be in the yard, but she’s not. Something is very wrong.”

We stood and listened, the rain hissing down and soaking us as we waited, trying to hear anything out of place.

After a minute or so, Emily gestured to me and moved towards the kitchen, half-crouched with the pistol in a firing position.

I followed as quietly as I could, empty hands curling into fists for want of a weapon, and we were almost at the door when suddenly a stocky figure burst out of it, shotgun in hand and screaming an incoherent warcry.

I fell over backwards in my haste to get away, scrabbling at the concrete as death approached, rain falling in my eyes and making it hard to see anything.

I heard Melody scream from the car, and then Emily’s voice cut across the yard in a scream.

“Dad, no!”

The world stopped. Rain still hissed down but everything else was frozen in place as the figure stood in the doorway, peaked cap streaming water as Ralph blinked uncertainly, shotgun still held in his meaty fists.

“Emily?” He said disbelievingly. “Emily? Malcolm? We thought, we thought…” He dropped the shotgun and turned to his daughter, sweeping her into his arms and crushing the breath from her.

“You’re alive!” he said, swinging her around in a circle, “oh my days, your alive and you came back.”

I picked myself up off the concrete slowly as Melody burst from the car and ran over to me, clutching my leg as I struggled to stand.

“I thought you were them bastards from the village come back again,” Ralph said as he finally put Emily down. “You’ve been gone so long we thought you were dead.”

“What bastards from the village?” Emily asked, getting her breath back.

“You know, the ones that tried to steal the car when me and Malcolm came to get you. They searched your house and found our address, then came over to cause mischief. I chased them off but they threatened to come back and burn us out like we did to them.”

He strode over to me and pumped my hand furiously, then stooped and stroked Melody’s cheek. “This your little girl?”

I nodded, heart still pounding. “Yes, this is Melody. Melody, this is Ralph.”

She moved away from me and held out her hand.

“You’re the troll,” she said, “dad told me all about you.”

Ralph looked up at me with a wicked gleam in his eye.

“Did he now?”

I swallowed nervously and smiled.

“In a manner of speaking, I suppose.”

He grunted and picked up his shotgun, gesturing at us to follow him into the kitchen.

“Harriet!” He shouted, “it’s ok. It’s Emily and Malcolm and they’ve got little Melody with them.”

The door to the larder flew open and Harriet almost ran out, her speed belying her age, to wrap Emily in her arms. A black and white blur came next, Maggie filling the kitchen with excited barking as a sheepish looking Jerry followed, several days’ worth of stubble making him look even more like Jeff Goldblum.

“I’m glad you made it,” he said with a smile, “really glad. I’m sorry I didn’t come with you.”

I shook my head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Jerry, but I’m not. I don’t think you’re built for what’s happening out there.”

He shrugged and introduced himself to Melody, then in turn introduced her to Harriet who immediately exclaimed over her grubby hair and face.

“Oh my child,” she said with a horrified expression, “did they find you in a mud bath?”

With a quick kiss on my cheek and a grateful smile, Harriet bustled Melody off to clean her up and Ralph closed the door on the outside world, then crossed to a shelf and took down a bottle of brandy and several glasses.

He poured a generous measure into each and soon we were sat around the table, Emily and I taking turns to relate our adventures, glossing over a few bits but mostly telling it for what it was; a story of horror, desolation and loss.

“Well you’re home now,” Ralph said firmly, his huge hand covering Emily’s where it sat on the table, “home and safe.”

Home we might be, I thought as I drank in the comfortable feeling of being surrounded by people I trusted, but with people like the Secretary, the men from Emily’s village and hordes like the one we’d narrowly avoided on the way back,

I knew that our troubles were far from over.

Copyright © 2014 Paul Grzegorzek

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