Bray - The Visitor

HOPE HOUSE CHRONICLES VOLUME ONE:

THE VISITOR

Michael Bray

Copyright 2015 Michael Bray

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The moral right of Michael Bray to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

EDWARD & JOAN MIRFIELD

1955 1962

ONE

O ctober 7th, 1962

As soon as they saw it, the Mirfields knew Hope House was where they wanted to live. They were certain they would never be able to locate a property with the right combination of the solitude they craved and the oneness with nature they craved. Some of the homes they viewed had combinations of one or the other, but only Hope House had possessed both. When they had first viewed it, both of them instantly fell in love with the unique styling, the way it was almost like a secret buried in the depths of Oakwell forest, its white walls standing out in beautiful contrast against the surrounding greens and browns around it. There was no question of them not making an offer. The house was the perfect place they had been searching for to spend their retirement.

Both in their fifties, the Mirfields were ready to reap the rewards of the work they had done. Edward had spent his career working on the docks, moving crates and shipments. Over the years, he had worked his way up to supervisor, which meant more money and less physical labour. He had saved carefully, ensuring that when the time came to move on and retire, the financial backing was there. In the winter of 54, the time had come. He had decided that he had seen enough of dirty dockyards, and heard too much foul-mouthed chatter from the young men who worked under him doing the same physical tasks he had himself spent so long performing. Although they had talked about it for some time, it was the first time Edward had been determined to see it through. He had told Joan to leave her job at the laundry, and they set out to find the perfect place.

Finding and living in Hope House had been some of the best years they had experienced. They loved the nature, loved the isolation. It was as if they had their own world away from everyone else, and were finally able to spend some time with each other. Eventually, they fell into a routine. Joan would get up early and go into the kitchen, where she would bake cakes and bread. Edward would go out into the forest to hunt rabbit and deer, before returning at dusk with whatever he had managed to kill, ready to strip down for them to eat. He loved the isolation, loved being surrounded by the trees, their thick canopies enveloping him in their embrace. It was during one such walk when he saw the man.

He was lying on his side, curled up beside an overhanging oak. He could almost have been asleep, his head resting on a blue canvas bag. At first, Edward was sure he was dead. His face was pale and waxy, blue eyes vacant and glassy, hair, jet black like oil was a frazzled mess on his head. There was also blood. On the mans hands, on his shirt, which was stained through and dark with it. Edward ran to him, dropping his gun on the floor.

Are you alright? What happened to you?

The man didnt reply, he stared at Edward, blinking and numb.

Can you hear me? Are you able to walk? Edward repeated.

The man groaned and nodded, then tried to sit up. He winced, clutched his side, and lay back down. Edward moved the mans hand. The shirt was torn, the flesh beneath it ravaged and split.

How long have you been out here? How did this happen?

The man blinked and groaned, and Edward knew it was pointless to keep trying to make conversation. It was clear the man was exhausted. He was also badly injured and dehydrated.

My home isnt far from here. Im going to take you there and help you. Do you understand?

The man nodded, and Edward helped him to his feet. The man groaned and pointed at the floor. My bag...my bag....

Ill get it, dont worry about that.

With his free hand, Edward scooped up the bag and slung it over his shoulder. He put the mans arm around his own neck and walked him back towards the house, pausing to pick up his gun on the way. The man shuffled along, head low and muttering as they made their way through the trees. Edward wasnt sure if he would make it, but he had to help as best he could

TWO

He was floating in a black emptiness, an experience which was not unpleasant. The pain in his side was a distant thing, something irritating more than agonising. Like scattered jigsaw pieces, memory came back to him. Who he was, what had happened to him. But not where. Where was still a mystery. He opened his eyes, light exploding into his brain and banishing away the darkness.

A face, lined and weathered by time.

A woman.

Kind blue eyes, silver hair flowing. A stranger.

He tried to speak, but his mouth was dry. The woman brought him water, cool and soothing.

Thank you, he said, his voice still hoarse. Where am I?

Relax, young man. Youre safe now, here with us. You are in our home. My husband found you out in the woods. We didnt think you were going to pull through.

Did you call a doctor? he asked.

No, not yet. We dont have a car and the village is quite a walk from here.

How long have I been asleep?

Two days. I dressed your wounds as best I could. The bleeding has stopped now.

Thank you again. The man said.

What should we call you? Young man doesnt seem appropriate.

Anthony, the man said, smiling at the woman.

My name is Joan. My husband, Edward is out on his morning walk, but will be back shortly. Do you feel up to eating?

No, Im not hungry. Does anyone know Im here?

We didnt feel it was right to go through your things. The bag you had with you is over in the corner there. This bedroom isnt used, so you have it for as long as you need until you are well. My husband will be heading into town tomorrow. He can get a doctor to come out to.

No.

I mean, there is really no need. Youve done a great job with my injuries. I wouldnt want to waste the time of a doctor when its not needed, thank you anyway, though.

Are you sure? It might be best if you had a doctor come out. Im no expert.

No really, Ill be fine. Thank you for the hospitality. Ill be on my way in just a few days.