Paul Wallington - Shaping The Ripples (AUK New Authors)

Title Page

SHAPING THE RIPPLES

Paul Wallington

Publisher Information

Shaping The Ripples published in 2010 by

Andrews UK Limited

www.andrewsuk.com

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publishers prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

Copyright Paul Wallington

The right of Paul Wallington to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my darling Lindsey my inspiration, my strength and my joy and my three amazing children Emma, David and Beth.

Acknowledgements

Thanks to everyone who read the early drafts of this and gave me so much encouragement, especially Dave and Liz.

Prologue

A beautiful evening to die, he thought idly, pressing firmly on the doorbell. He arranged his face into a look of anguish as he saw a shadow move behind the door. As expected, her eyes showed an instant recognition, then confusion.

I wasnt expecting you.

I know. He made sure his voice had just the right note of anguish. Im sorry to turn up like this, but somethings happened. I really need to talk to you now, just for a few minutes.

She hesitated, clearly undecided. Then, as hed expected, she moved back.

Alright then, but only for a couple of minutes

He nodded gratefully, and followed her through the house.

In the room, he sat facing her, and began to talk.

The things you said last time I saw you, really made me think. Ive realised what I need to do. He hesitated for a moment and then jumped to his feet. This is so hard! he cried, pacing in feigned distress about the room.

As always, she stayed sitting, trying to reduce his agitation by showing that she was calm and in control. It was the easiest thing in the world to walk around behind her. He slid the knife from his pocket and leaned forwards to draw it across her throat.

He walked back around and pulled his chair right up to her. Her hands were up to her neck, trying uselessly to stop the flow of blood.

No wise sayings to suit this particular occasion? he teased, savouring the pain and terror in her eyes. Cat got your tongue, maybe?

He raised the knife again and took his prize. Then he stood and walked over to her filing cabinet. It only took a few moments to find what he was looking for and he turned back to look at her. Her eyes were already wide and glassy, but one hand still drummed convulsively on the arm of the chair.

Ten minutes later he left the house, very satisfied with his work.

Chapter One

As a child, part of every Christmas Days tradition was watching Julie Andrews telling a group of improbably perky children to Start at the very beginning. Its probably good advice but in real life, its not as easy as it sounds. Lifes much more messy, and the moment that really signifies the beginning of a whole chain of events is almost impossible to spot.

I could start with the instant that I realised my life had passed through the looking glass and into a deepening nightmare - the day I discovered a friends dismembered body. I suspect though, that the real start came some days earlier, a much more unremarkable day. In ways that I couldnt even have imagined at the time, it all started with Jennifer.

Jennifer Carter opened the door to her house, smiling. Come in, Jack, she said, standing aside to let me precede her down the hall and into her small counselling room.

The room was simply furnished, with three comfortable single armchairs set into a triangle shape and facing each other. The windowsill was covered with photographs of her family, a husband and two grown-up daughters; the only exception being a basket of different types of stone , which sat at the centre of the windowsill. Some months ago she had asked me to pick the stone which I liked the most and explain why I had chosen it. My choice had been pale and very smooth with a few jagged ridges which seemed to mean something to her but she didnt explain what. I never asked, in case I didnt like the answer I got.

I waited for her to sit down in the chair next to a small wooden table, on which were two things; a brown folder with the words Jack Bailey, age 34 on the front cover, and a box of tissues. Id managed to avoid needing the tissues during my regular visits to see her, but the file had got noticeably thicker over the two and a half years that Jennifer and I had been working together.

My marriage to Liz had finally come to an end just over three years ago and the nightmares had started almost immediately afterwards. Awful dreams of being a small child suffering at the hands of a giant, they woke me up violently each night. Before the nightmares started, I had no memories at all of being a young child (my first memory being my Grandfathers death when I was eight years old) but a flood of images soon followed. Suddenly, a whole lot of things fell into place. Put as simply and unemotionally as I can, my early years were disfigured by systematic and sustained sexual abuse, which only ended with the aforementioned death. Somehow Id blotted out the memories and got on with life as best I could. I know theres a lot of debate about repressed memories, but count me as an exhibit for the case that , at least sometimes, theyre real.

Trying to come to terms with this new reality was what had brought me to Jennifer. I made the decision that something which had such an adverse effect on my life and which unknowingly had contributed in a fairly major way to the breakdown of my marriage, needed to be addressed. As someone who spends a fair amount of their own time counselling others, Id like to be able to say what a great help it was, but most of me thinks Id be lying. Certainly I understand myself a lot better now, but I sometimes wonder if I wasnt better off when I was living in ignorance. The Bible claims that Jesus once said The truth shall set you free but in my experience knowing why youre the way you are and actually being able to change it are two very different things. So far, its a gulf Ive been unable to leap.

None of this is in any way a criticism of Jennifer who is as warm and sensitive a person as you could hope to meet. I guess shes in her early 50s and usually manages to make me feel momentarily better while we talk. She sat down in the chair now and began with her standard opening,

So, how are things for you at the moment?

Even though I always know that question is coming, Im never quite sure how Im going to answer until I open my mouth.

Not so bad. I managed somewhat unimaginatively. Works very busy at the moment, which obviously isnt a good thing, but it keeps me occupied.

I stopped with a slight shrug.

What about outside of work? How are you filling your evenings and weekends? Jennifer probed.

Im usually on call at the weekends, so I tend to stay around the house. I do have the faithful companion of divorced men across the country, I paused with a slight smile then continued, - all the sports channels on digital TV. And I go to the cinema quite a bit.

Alone?

Well, yes. But I dont mind. And as long as I dont go to any really rude films, I dont get too many funny looks!

So, apart from work, you have almost no contact with other people.