talk without interruption. Perhaps if he had spoken she would have reconsidered the decision to leave. He remained silent.
“You know Twin Pines will one day be yo urs don’t you?”
S he continued without waiting for his reply.
“If you ever feel things with Allan hav e got out of hand you must run. If you did go, and you feel you are in danger, don’t ever come back, no matter what. You are old enough and strong enough now to look after yourself, but never underestimate that man.”
Sean listened to her story her words flowing over him like a gentle tide.
“What I’ve told you must stay between us. Remember son, if I...”
S he trailed off without finishing her sentence. She looked up at Sean as though she wanted to commit every detail of him to memory. He remembered her eyes had sparkled with unshed tears. If only he had spoken up.
He remembered her eyes had held no fear and for the first time he had realized that was the emotion he normally saw in their depths. This change had sent every nerve in his body a primitive warning. What wasn’t she saying in the many words that she had spoken? He had drawn a deep breath.
“You need to get the hell away from here for good. You are right , I can look after myself, but I’m not sure that I can look after you at the same time.”
He had hesitated and then , for a reason Sean could never explain, he had held his mother close.
“I l ove you.”
As an old man he realized this simple message if left unspoken, would have haunted him to his grave.
These we re the last words Sean would ever say to his mother.
Allan stood watching the exchange from the cover of the large tree. He was too far away to hear their actual words but their body language had told him enough. His eyes narrowed to form dangerous slits.
He rubbed his face furiously with the back of his hand. Those stupid little people appeared at the corner of his vision, why did they choose now when I need to concentrate? He rubbed again impatient to stop them running and dancing around the corners of his eyes. It was distracting they needed to stop. They needed to stop now!!! That bitch and her bastard son, what were they up to?
He stopped the frantic rubbing and suddenly looked down. A familiar warm sensation had made the people stop running around on his eyes. He watched the dark wet patch slowly spread around his crotch, yellow liquid ran in rivets down his legs and pooled at his feet. The sting of his urine running over his tender burnt skin snapped Allan back to reality. He silently moved away. He had seen enough.
Anne left in the dead of night. She was nursing a blackening eye and broken fingers, blue and swollen. She was leaving Shearers Cottage and a life of hell before it killed her.
Sean woke to the sound of torrential rain. It cascaded from the roof and fell in muddy puddles on the dusty driveway. Small waterfalls had formed on the hillsides and ran in lacy veils on their way to join the swollen streams and rivers. Allan sat at the table. His head had fallen forward and was resting in a puddle of rank smelling saliva. Beside him lay several almost empty bottles.
The washing machine was spinning furiou sly shaking the old wooden structure to its core. Sean looked at the wasted figure in disgust. He imagined his mother, safe and warm, miles from the disgusting man that was slumped in front of him.
He left Allan where he was and walked to the lonely Redwood Pine at the end of the drive to catch the rural bus to school.
Sean was under no illusion that when drunk Allan was dangerous. Even in the rare moments of sobriety Allan was fast slipping into a world of wild accusations and imagined conspiracies.
After Anne had left , Allan’s mood darkened even further as the threads of sanity began to break completely. He rubbed frantically at the skin around his eyes until it was nothing more than a raw sticky
“You know Twin Pines will one day be yo urs don’t you?”
S he continued without waiting for his reply.
“If you ever feel things with Allan hav e got out of hand you must run. If you did go, and you feel you are in danger, don’t ever come back, no matter what. You are old enough and strong enough now to look after yourself, but never underestimate that man.”
Sean listened to her story her words flowing over him like a gentle tide.
“What I’ve told you must stay between us. Remember son, if I...”
S he trailed off without finishing her sentence. She looked up at Sean as though she wanted to commit every detail of him to memory. He remembered her eyes had sparkled with unshed tears. If only he had spoken up.
He remembered her eyes had held no fear and for the first time he had realized that was the emotion he normally saw in their depths. This change had sent every nerve in his body a primitive warning. What wasn’t she saying in the many words that she had spoken? He had drawn a deep breath.
“You need to get the hell away from here for good. You are right , I can look after myself, but I’m not sure that I can look after you at the same time.”
He had hesitated and then , for a reason Sean could never explain, he had held his mother close.
“I l ove you.”
As an old man he realized this simple message if left unspoken, would have haunted him to his grave.
These we re the last words Sean would ever say to his mother.
Allan stood watching the exchange from the cover of the large tree. He was too far away to hear their actual words but their body language had told him enough. His eyes narrowed to form dangerous slits.
He rubbed his face furiously with the back of his hand. Those stupid little people appeared at the corner of his vision, why did they choose now when I need to concentrate? He rubbed again impatient to stop them running and dancing around the corners of his eyes. It was distracting they needed to stop. They needed to stop now!!! That bitch and her bastard son, what were they up to?
He stopped the frantic rubbing and suddenly looked down. A familiar warm sensation had made the people stop running around on his eyes. He watched the dark wet patch slowly spread around his crotch, yellow liquid ran in rivets down his legs and pooled at his feet. The sting of his urine running over his tender burnt skin snapped Allan back to reality. He silently moved away. He had seen enough.
Anne left in the dead of night. She was nursing a blackening eye and broken fingers, blue and swollen. She was leaving Shearers Cottage and a life of hell before it killed her.
Sean woke to the sound of torrential rain. It cascaded from the roof and fell in muddy puddles on the dusty driveway. Small waterfalls had formed on the hillsides and ran in lacy veils on their way to join the swollen streams and rivers. Allan sat at the table. His head had fallen forward and was resting in a puddle of rank smelling saliva. Beside him lay several almost empty bottles.
The washing machine was spinning furiou sly shaking the old wooden structure to its core. Sean looked at the wasted figure in disgust. He imagined his mother, safe and warm, miles from the disgusting man that was slumped in front of him.
He left Allan where he was and walked to the lonely Redwood Pine at the end of the drive to catch the rural bus to school.
Sean was under no illusion that when drunk Allan was dangerous. Even in the rare moments of sobriety Allan was fast slipping into a world of wild accusations and imagined conspiracies.
After Anne had left , Allan’s mood darkened even further as the threads of sanity began to break completely. He rubbed frantically at the skin around his eyes until it was nothing more than a raw sticky
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