EMERGENCE Read online

  Seren was standing on the kerb near the school’s rear entrance, waiting. She kept thrusting her navy gym bag up into the air and kicking it with her plimsolled foot on its way back down. Her hair, which John had secured into a neat ponytail that morning, was a dishevelment of lose strands framing her face. Her white polo shirt was a stubborn mess of rough-and-tumble dirt, and her legs were like two spelks sticking out the bottom of her knee-length grey skirt, the hem of which was grazing an assortment of new and old scabs. Next to Seren was a taller, mousy-haired girl who exuded a neatness that belied her age and whose name John couldn’t recall. Behind both girls was a thin, angular woman whose chestnut hair shone glossy and artificial in the daylight. A distinct level of concentration on the woman’s face made her look serious and tight-lipped as she worked the keypad of a mobile phone with nimble thumbs. John presumed her to be Seren’s friend’s mother.

  Pulling his black Honda Accord into a vacant spot, he gave Seren a wave to let her know he’d seen her. As he hitched the handbrake up he turned to look out of the rear window to see if she was coming. She wasn’t. She was smiling and gesturing with her hand for him to go to her.

  ‘Shit, Seren,’ he groaned, dashing his palm off the steering wheel. Nothing irked him more than schoolyard banter with the other kids’ parents. Feigning interest in upcoming birthday parties, or chatting about Disney bloody Princesses or Peppa sodding Pig was not his idea of fun. Reluctantly he switched the engine off, stepped from the car and stalked towards the waiting trio.

  As he drew nearer Seren’s friend’s mother looked up, stuffing her mobile phone into the front pocket of her straight-leg jeans. She moved forward to greet him. Her red suede trainers seemed to insinuate some boldness or daring about her character, however nothing else about her appearance backed up this claim. Her even-toned complexion was makeup-less, indicative of a no-nonsense practicality, and her shoulder-length hair was straighter than straight and boring in style. When she fixed him with a smile, John died a little inside – her brown eyes sparkled with much more of a keenness to socialise than he would have liked.

  ‘Hi, I’m Paula, Grace’s mum,’ she said, pointing at the mousy-haired girl who was now looking up at him with wide-eyed interest.

  John offered Paula a reciprocal smile and nodded his head, already beginning to feel the first twinges of awkwardness. ‘Hi. John.’ He reached out his hand, unsure if a handshake was wholly appropriate, but unsure what else to do.

  The gesture seemed to please Paula. She accepted his hand, smiling all the more widely for it. ‘Nice to meet you, John. Seren’s told Grace a lot about you. It’s good to put a face to the name at last.’

  Paula’s hand was rough against his, her fingers and palm calloused. She smelled of fruity yoghurt and continued to stare at him in that way people do, which made him feel uncomfortable. ‘Er, yeah.’ He smiled again, moving his sunglasses to the top of his head.

  For a fleeting moment Paula’s eyes widened a fraction as though she was surprised by what she saw.

  John gritted his teeth. ‘So. Was there anything in particular…?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, there is.’ Paula tucked the front sections of her hair behind her ears and, as she did, John saw there was a pink rawness to her fingers that was indicative of eczema or contact dermatitis perhaps. ‘What with the girls breaking up from school on Friday,’ she said, ‘me and Ian, that’s my husband, we’ve been thinking about taking them on a camping trip. A week in Scarborough maybe. Or Filey.’

  John’s eyes narrowed. ‘You mean Seren?’

  ‘Yeah. That is, if it’s alright with you? I think Grace would really…’

  ‘No.’ John was already shaking his head and glowering more than was polite. ‘I don’t think so.’

  Paula looked stunned by his abrupt retort.

  ‘Why not, Dad?’ Seren asked, her blue eyes appealing to him. ‘Paula says there’re fairground rides in Scarborough and a beach I can make sandcastles on.’

  ‘I’m sure there are, but you’re not going,’ John insisted, shaking his head some more.

  ‘But why?’ Her eyebrows bunched up in disappointment, making him feel somewhat mean. But he was too vexed by Paula’s short-noticed, overly confident presumptuousness to back down. Besides, the idea of letting his little girl go off for a week with people he didn’t even know made him feel nauseous. She was only six, still a baby.

  He fixed her with a stern look. ‘Because I said so.’

  ‘Look, I’m sorry,’ Paula said, a faint look of apology creasing her forehead. ‘Perhaps I jumped the gun. It was just a suggestion, okay? I just thought…I dunno, I thought it’d give you a bit of a break.’

  ‘A bit of a break?’ John didn’t attempt to hide his bemused annoyance. ‘What’s that supposed to mean? A bit of a break from what? My own daughter?’

  ‘That’s not what I meant,’ Paula said, raising her hands to calm his rising temper. ‘It’s just…I hear you work hard.’

  ‘Really? And what else do you hear?’ He stuffed his hands into his front pockets, imagining he’d probably been the target of much schoolyard tittle-tattle amongst nosy mothers over the past couple of years.

  ‘You’ve misunderstood…’

  ‘You don’t know a damn thing about me, okay?’

  ‘Hey, chill out.’ Paula’s face flushed so it was the colour of her sore hands and she adopted a defensive stance, arms crossed tightly over her chest and feet shoulder-width apart. ‘You’re twisting my words. It’s just what Seren’s told Grace, that’s all. She said you work long hours. I’m not implying anything or disrespecting your…situation. I just thought it might be helpful if Seren joined us for a week or two…’

  ‘Well you thought wrong. I’m capable of looking after my own kid during the summer holidays, thank you very much.’

  Paula nodded resolutely, her thin-lipped mouth pinching together more tightly and her eyes becoming a lot less friendly than before. She took hold of Grace by the shoulders. ‘Okay, if that’s how you feel, I’ll let you get on with it. It’s just a shame, what with all the other kids in the girls’ class going places over the summer and Seren saying that…well, never mind.’

  John closed his eyes and sighed.

  Had he overreacted? Was he being paranoid? Overly protective even? He squeezed the bridge of his nose, feeling increasingly stressed by the way the conversation had turned out. This was the reason he tried to avoid social situations wherever possible. He always said the wrong things or ended up misconstruing people’s intentions. Defensive by choice, though he hadn’t always been that way. Now he knew he’d be regarded as the shittest dad ever once Paula told all the other schoolyard mothers about this little episode. They’d be even more intimidating in their daunting little cliques. All of them emotional scavengers just waiting to pick him to pieces with their cold, watchful eyes. Only this time maybe they’d have good reason to judge him. After all what did he have planned for Seren? A barbecue on Friday evening and a day trip to Alton Towers whenever he could find the time to take a holiday from work? Talk about a lousy effort.

  He ran a hand over his face and groaned. ‘Hey, look…I’m sorry we’ve got off on the wrong foot, Paula. Really. I acted like a bit of a tool just now. I mean, it was really kind of you to offer to take Seren away, it’s just...the thing is…I’ve, er, I’ve got stuff planned for her myself.’

  ‘Oh. I see.’ Paula’s demeanour relaxed a little, but she didn’t look completely appeased. ‘If that’s the case then you should have just said in the first place. But I’m pleased to hear it, it’ll be good for her.’

  ‘Yeah.’ John placed a hand on Seren’s shoulder. She looked up at him curiously, squinting against the sun. He winked at her. ‘Yeah, it will.’

  ‘Alrighty then, in that case I guess I’ll get going.’ Paula’s eyes widened to emphasise her newfound awkwardness with the situation. ‘I hope you have a lovely summer and, um…maybe I’ll see you about.’

  ‘Yeah. Maybe.’ John nodded, thoug
h he knew it wasn’t likely to happen. Not if he could help it. ‘And same to you. Have a good one. Enjoy Scarborough. Or Filey. Whichever.’

  ‘Cheers.’ Paula forced a final smile and nudged Grace in the direction of a newish, cream-coloured Mini Cooper that was parked with its left wheels on the pavement.

  Seren watched till they were seated and belted, then waved goodbye. Craning her neck, she looked up at John and asked, ‘You’ve got stuff planned? Does that mean we’re going away?’ Her eyes sparkled with quiet excitement; a nervous-joyful energy that was carefully kept in check in case it turned out to be unwarranted.

  John took hold of her small hand and led her to the Honda. ‘That’s right, kidda.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘Where would you most like to go?’

  ‘Hmmm.’ She closed her eyes, thinking. ‘Somewhere with a beach.’

  ‘I thought you wanted to go to Alton Towers. Or Flamingo Land?’

  Shaking her head, she said, ‘No, I changed my mind. I want to go to the beach. Lucy Dale’s going to Spain and she says the hotel she’s staying in is right next to the sea. How splendid’s that?’

  ‘Splendid?’ John looked at her quizzically, a bemused smile on his lips. ‘You been reading Enid Blyton, kidda?’

  ‘Enid who?’

  ‘Never mind.’

  Seren nudged her glasses over the bridge of her nose with the knuckle of her forefinger and shrugged. ‘Petey Moon says splendid all the time. It’s a good word, isn’t it?’

  ‘Suppose it’s better than what Harry Dalton and his big brother say,’ John said, quietly amused. ‘So, about this beach…’

  ‘Yes. Lucy Dale says she makes sandcastles and plays in the water the whole time.’

  ‘Suppose it does sound splendid,’ he said with a wink. He dug the car keys out of his jeans pocket.

  ‘We should go there. And I’d have an even better time than Lucy Dale.’

  ‘Why would you think that?’

  ‘Because her mam and dad argue lots.’

  ‘Oh. That must suck.’

  ‘Yeah. Her dad likes to drink beer and look at topless women. Her mam doesn’t.’

  John made an involuntary chortling noise in his throat. ‘Yes, well, maybe we can do that next year. Go abroad that is. But I don’t think we can manage it this summer.’

  ‘So where can we go this summer?’

  ‘How about a few day trips here and there? That way we can do theme parks and the beach.’

  ‘Day trips?’ Seren’s shoulders sagged, she dropped her gym bag to the floor with a huff.

  ‘Yeah, it’ll be cool.’

  ‘No it won’t. It means you’ll be working all summer and that we’re not really going anywhere. Not properly anyway.’

  Seren’s despondency saddened John. Given the choice he suspected his little girl would go camping with Paula and Ian, whoever the hell they were, in a heartbeat without giving him as much as a second thought. This made him feel insignificant, something of a failure. Hunkering down so they were eye to eye, he put his hands on her shoulders and took a deep breath. ‘Listen, what if I told you we can stay near the beach for four whole weeks?’

  She scowled, studying his face and trying to determine if he was setting her up for further disappointment. ‘But you just said…’

  ‘Forget what I said.’ He swatted the empty space between them with a dismissive hand.

  ‘You mean we can stay near the beach for four weeks, not just go there on day trips?’

  ‘Yep, that’s right.’

  Again she regarded him suspiciously. ‘Just you and me?’

  ‘No.’ John allowed himself a sly grin. ‘You, me and…two dogs.’

  Seren’s eyes widened. ‘Are we getting two dogs?’

  ‘No! No, we’re bloody not. We’d be looking after them that’s all.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Gran’s house.’

  ‘We’re going to visit Gran?’ This time her excitement gushed out, unstoppable, and she punched the air with both fists.

  ‘Well, not exactly. We’ll be staying at Gran’s house with Gran’s dogs but she won’t be there.’

  ‘Where will she be?’

  ‘On holiday.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘But,’ he was quick to add, ‘if you really like it at Gran’s house we could stay a little while longer so that we get to see her when she gets back from her cruise.’

  Seren nodded and John could tell the beach in Spain was forgotten about.

  He didn’t dream about Amy that night. Nor did the black dog that was prone to nightly visits come howling at the back door of his subconscious to be let in. Instead an all-embracing blackness blocked out all thoughts and worries, allowing him to sleep through until morning. And when he rang his mother after dropping Seren off at school, he was more than confident he was making the right decision.

  _

  6

  _

  The day of transition started off warm. Low clouds above the North Sea banded the horizon like great albatross wings; a storm gathering, readying to fly inland. For most of the two hours it had taken John and Seren to travel from Leeds to Horden Seren had chattered excitedly, wanting to know if crocodiles are dinosaurs (and if so why aren’t they bigger), if Roseberry Topping is classed as a mountain or a hill (and at what point does a hill become a mountain) and why the Tees Flyover smelt like eggy farts as they drove over it. John had been concentrating on the high volume of traffic while they talked, yet still managed to miss their turn-off. He came off at Murton instead, joining the A19 southbound then backtracking for three miles to Easington. When he pulled off the dual carriageway they followed a long slip road till they arrived at a roundabout. Unhindered by other traffic now, John came to a complete stop and pointed off to the right. ‘See over there?’

  Seren looked, trying but failing to see anything of particular interest. Apart from fields, trees and a large grey chequerboard building, which looked out of place in the largely green setting, there was nothing but a rook hopping about at the kerbside and a strip of black polythene snagged on a fence post, its tattered strips flapping in the breeze like corvid wings.

  When she didn’t answer, John announced, ‘That’s where I was born.’

  ‘In a field?’ Seren made eye contact with him in the rear-view mirror, clicking her tongue to let him know she wasn’t being fooled by his smart-arsed japery.

  John laughed. ‘No, silly, I’m being serious. There used to be some buildings, right there. Thorpe Hospital.’

  Her eyebrows rose with piqued curiosity and she took another look. ‘Why’s it not there anymore?’

  The corner of the field where the hospital once stood showed no obvious signs of it ever having been there. Green foliage bowed inwards, concealing a small lane that ran alongside it.

  ‘I dunno,’ John said, releasing his foot from the brake and pulling out onto the roundabout. ‘It was knocked down years ago.’

  Seren carried on looking at the field’s empty corner as they moved off. The rook, seeming to sense her interest, jumped onto the fence and watched her with beetle-black eyes. She raised a hand and waved goodbye. It cawed and spread its wings in return.

  When John announced their imminent arrival into Horden, Seren fell into a quiet, thoughtful concentration, her gaze alternating between the side window at the back and the windscreen up front. Every now and then she would lean to the right and look between the two front seats, her high ponytail bleached blonder by the last few days of sun and her nose and cheeks dappled with freckles. She was wearing her favourite new top: a white t-shirt with a purple tyrannosaurus rex printed on the front. John had bought it from the boys’ section in Next. It coordinated well with the frames of her glasses and she’d insisted on wearing it that morning. John gathered it was a feel-good emblem to mark the beginning of their month-long adventure together and wished he could share her enthusiasm. As they drove along Thorpe Road he was feeling increasingly anxious though. He thrumm
ed his thumbs against the steering wheel, a surge of nervous energy forming a repetitive rhythm on the plastic. Questions and fears resounded in his head like quick-fire assaults: What if it doesn’t work out? What if she hates staying here? What if I hate it even more?

  Air blowing in through the dashboard vents brought with it the smell of Walkers, the nearby crisp factory. The pleasant cooking aroma of thinly cut potatoes failed to appeal because John’s breakfast was sitting uneasily in his stomach. He shifted in his seat, agitated, tugging absent-mindedly at one of the rolled-up sleeves of his checked shirt. And his face began to itch, the memory of the razor’s kiss earlier that morning starting to irritate him with some degree of psychological prickliness. He rubbed at his jawline, the skin smooth beneath his fingertips.

  If either of us doesn’t like it then we’ll go back home, for chrissakes, he told himself with angry resolve. And we’ll take the damn dogs with us.

  There, he felt marginally better.

  Up ahead a young woman was pummelling the pedals of a pushbike, her tanned calves muscular below cropped leggings. As she rode past on the opposite side of the road John openly stared at her exerted face before eventually deciding he didn’t recognise it.

  Did you really expect to?

  He had no place in this ex-colliery village anymore, didn’t know a damn thing about its residents or street-life. He felt he was little more than a ghost coming back to haunt the setting of his youth, coasting along on a different plane to the one he’d known. Little pockets of recollection opened up with every tree and grass verge he passed, but this initial reacquaintance with Horden seemed to command an altered, perhaps harsher, clarity through his thirty-eight-year-old eyes. He felt overwhelmed and underwhelmed all at the same time.

  The Dewhirst factory units, where his mother had worked as a machinist during the seventies and early eighties, were no longer there. In place of the corrugated buildings was a derelict stretch of wasteland and rubble. Directly opposite was the cemetery, now almost full. Oddly, this resting place for both of John’s maternal grandparents, with its neatly lined rows upon rows of gravestones, cherubim, flowers and greenness, looked thriving compared to the ruined site of Dewhirst’s across the road. He supposed the cheaper manufacturing of clothing had been sourced elsewhere, but business would never be short when it came to burying the dead.