H.G. Tudor - Feted and Feared

Feted and Feared

By

H G Tudor

Copyright 2016

All Rights Reserved

Feted and Feared

By

H G Tudor

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.

Published by Insight Books

And So It Began

Have they not learnt how to shut that bloody child up? asked Steven Brooks as he pushed his hands across his face. The echoing cry of a baby rang out once again.

He will stop soon, replied his wife, Caroline, her voice muffled since her head was underneath a pillow.

This has been going on for hours, sighed Steven. He flung the duvet back and swung his legs around planting his feet on the floor.

Hes a baby, what do you expect? said Caroline as she lifted the pillow from her face.

Thats no baby. Its a devil child. Ive never known a baby cry so much.

Thats because you have no experience of looking after a baby. Well not yet anyway.

Steven looked across at his alarm clock and shook his head as the red numbers told him it was 2-08 am.

Ive got to be up in four hours and I havent had any sleep, he commented.

Wait, said Caroline.

The crying had stopped. Steven sat listening. The silence continued.

Oh thank God for that, he declared.

See I told you, said Caroline patting her husband on the arm, you are going to have to get used to this, you know?

Jesus ours had better not be like theirs otherwise I am giving it away.

Dont say that, chided Caroline as she slapped her husband lightly on the back.

Im serious. Im not putting up with that racket. He must have been crying for three hours solid.

Just think how they must be feeling then? remarked Caroline thinking of her neighbours.

No doubt the same way as me, I never understand how Ted always looks so lively.

Hes probably snoring his head off and poor Abigail is the one left looking after the baby.

Do you think so? I rather suspect that it is the other way around.

They fell silent again and heard nothing more. Steven lay back down and adjusted his pillow as his wife ran her hand up and down his back. The crying began again, a long wail, which rose and rose before a brief break and then another forlorn cry followed it.

Oh for fucks sake, this is ridiculous, said Steven as he sat back up again.

Go and sleep in one of the spare rooms if it is too loud in here, suggested Caroline.

Do you not mind?

No, go on.

Want to come with me?

And have the crying replaced by your snoring? No thank you, replied Caroline.

I dont snore, protested Steven.

Of course not.

Steven stood up and with the incessant crying continuing he left the master bedroom and crossed the landing heading for one the spare rooms towards the rear of the extensive house. By the light of the lamp on the landing, he shuffled along, rubbing the back of his head as he already began to dread the following day. He needed his sleep and now this wretched babys cry had bored into his head and he feared it would not leave in a hurry.

He climbed into the double bed and shivered as the coldness of the duvet enveloped him. He lay down and closed his eyes. The crying was still going on and it seemed to be louder now he was in this spare room.

Ive had enough of this, he said and got straight back out of the bed. He opened the bedroom door and stood at the top of the landing. The crying continued. He was trying to establish whereabouts from next door it was coming but he could not gauge it, as the noise seemed to echo and drift back and forth. He returned to the master bedroom.

Caroline?

Yes?

It is getting beyond a joke now. Im going next door to ask them to do something. This is the third night in the row this has been going on. I am going to become psychotic through lack of sleep

Oh dont be so dramatic.

Im not. Its not so bad for you, you can have a snooze during the day.

Hey, I dont spend all day lounging around you know.

I know that but I am at work and I cant nod off there can I?

What are you going to do then?

Smother him?

Steven, dont say things like that. It is a baby. Ted and Abigail will no doubt feel the same about our baby when it starts up like that.

No baby should be crying like that. It sounds almost inhuman.

What are you saying? That they are hurting it?

He heard Caroline move in the darkness of the room.

No, no, Im not saying that, but theres something clearly wrong with him. Jesus listen to that, he said.

A high pitch cry rang out and Steven shivered again as the noise drifted about their house.

I told you we should have bought a detached house dear, said Caroline.

Bit late for that now my love, answered Steven as he groped for his dressing down at the back of the door. He found it and lifted it off its hook.

What are you doing? asked Caroline.

Im going round there to ask if everything is alright.

You cant do that; they will think you are accusing them of hurting the baby.

Not at all. I will ask them if they can move him to a room further away from the party wall. They must have him in their bedroom too for him to be so loud.

Okay but be pleasant about it. We dont see much of them anyway and I wouldnt want them to think you are being funny about it.

You know me, answered Steven, the model of diplomacy.

Hmm, thats what concerns me. I will come with you.

Honestly Caroline, theres no need, it is a bit chilly, stay in bed.

No I want to see if they need any help, besides, it will be useful practice for me wont it?

Light flared in the room as Caroline flicked on a lamp. She stood up and walked in front of the lamp, her rounded figure silhouetted by the light.

Here, said Steven as he picked up her dressing gown and held it up for her as she slid her arms in.

Thank you.

He put his gown on and the pair padded down the stairs into their spacious hallway. Steven flicked on another light and picked the front door keys from the draw of a console table. The crying had not eased and continued to fill the air, the repeated sobbing rising and falling.

Poor thing, said Caroline.

If only she knew how prophetic those words were back then.

A Brief Period of Rejoicing

The period of devaluation will feel like an ongoing onslaught against you as the various methods of manipulation are deployed against you. We know that is cannot be an unending assault, for no matter how tempting it may be to keep exacting the negative fuel from you as a consequence of your tears, fear, frustration and anger, there is only so much that you can sustain before you decide that enough is enough and you depart. Bringing about such a swift cessation of our primary source of fuel is contrary to our needs and therefore the abusive regime must be rationed in order to provide for the maximum return. Furthermore, if we were to maintain a permanent state of abuse then we would also bring about your failure to function as a reliable appliance. Either you would break under the onslaught or you would eventually become de-sensitised too it and no matter how hard we tried to up the ante, it just would not have the same effect. Whether broken or de-sensitised such a condition results in the interruption to our fuel supply and that is of the paramount importance.

To avoid this happening we will provide various periods of respite during the devaluation phase. This creates the push and pull factor that you become so familiar with. This is what creates the sensation of being strapped to a rollercoaster with no capacity to control its direction or speed. You will be subjected to a silent treatment out of nowhere. One moment you will be relaxing on a Sunday afternoon after a pleasant lunch and then you ask us an innocent question. There is no answer. You ask again in case we have not heard but we remain reading the newspaper. You ask a third time and we fold down a section of the newspaper so that we may peer at you from behind it as that ice-cold glare forms. You are immediately taken aback and your look of hurt and confusion provides the fuel as you ask us what is the matter. Silence. You ask again. Silence. You get up and come over to us and keep asking what is wrong, what is it that you have said, please will we talk to you. More silence. You replay the day so far, in your mind and then you engage in asking us whether when you did this was that what has upset us? Or perhaps when you said something else, is this what has brought this silence on? We of course give you now clues, we provide no answers and your anxiety increases. You move away, desperate to know what it is that has caused the sudden silence but you are wary of irritating us further. You fix us a drink but it is left untouched and then when you next return to the living room we have vanished. You call out through the house and search through it but we cannot be found. Our car has gone from the driveway and you ring our mobile phone. It rings but there is no answer. You keep trying and you also send text messages but there comes no response. This lasts a day, three days or even more and throughout this your anxiety and worry has heightened. All the while we know precisely how you will be reacting and we also see the calls, the texts and we are told by friends that you have been in contact with them worried sick. It all provides fuel.