Chapter Five
Johnny threw the Guardian newspaper onto the coffee table and strolled into his small kitchen. He pressed in the red switch on the handle of his stainless steel kettle and then put two heaped teaspoonfuls of instant coffee into his treasured Arbroath Football Club mug.
The article in the Guardian had read better than he expected. When the editor had phoned him he had been dubious; the questions he asked made him sound as if he was about to tear the facts apart. But the article read well and was on the second page. He had outlined the fact that the Gnostic Gospel had scored points due to his visions, but there was a problem with the part played by Judas Iscariot. He had added quotes from Catholic priests, who claimed the second vision proved that the gospels of the New Testament were correct.
The switch on the kettle popped out, and Johnny lifted the steaming kettle and poured the boiling water over the coffee followed by a splash of milk and a teaspoonful of honey.
He strolled back into the living room and sat on his old settee. It had been an eventful week since the article in the newspaper: he had featured on the front of Time Magazine.
The sub-editor had phoned him and asked him to write up an article and to expect a photographer. All this was a pleasant contrast to the last time he had dealt with the magazine where despite a good CV and a cutting edge article on religion he was at first rejected.
As he sipped the sweet coffee, he let his head flop back onto the top of the rear of the settee. He stared at the artex ceiling, which had been white, but was now a light, brown due to a film of nicotine.
The emails sent through to his address at The Courier were eye opening–just as he had expected them to have been. Most were damning, one, from a sect called The Friends of Judas had threatened him with physical violence if the accusations were not withdrawn. Another from an anonymous sender had threatened to destroy his soul! “Just how that would be done was anybody’s guess,” said Johnny, laughing to himself as he rose and walked through to the spare room.
He switched on his laptop and then checked his Courier mailbox. He decided not to read anymore of them, even the many short ones, and deleted them halting at one from The Friends of Judas entitled retribution. Johnny opened the file and read it: As the accusations still stand retribution will be swift! Johnny deleted it and laughed. Cranks had threatened him before; it was part of the job.
After leaving Morrison’s with two bulging bags of groceries Johnny crossed the car park, negotiated the dual carriageway and turned into Guthrie Port. The sun had set, and shadows lurked around the buildings.
A man in shabby clothes stepped out of a shop entrance making him stop and stare. He had long straggled grey hair and a dirty beard. But it was his eyes that transfixed Johnny: they were a brilliant, blue.
Johnny nodded to the man and then moved around him and walked on along the street. He was keen to get to his flat not only because of the tramp, but because the plastic handles of the bags had dug into his hands.
That night he dreamt that his body had risen into a starlit sky and a radiant being with brilliant, blue eyes sucked out his consciousness.
As Johnny’s mind flowed toward and then through the being, he felt undying love. But the feeling faded, and he woke up with a start.
Standing at the bottom of his bed gazing at him was the tramp with the bright blue eyes.
“What the…?” Johnny shouted as he jumped out of bed. “How did you get in here?”
“That’s irrelevant,” said the tramp in a deep, American accent which Johnny thought odd in Arbroath.
“Get out–now!” Johnny shouted grabbing his jeans. “I’ll call the police!”
“You’ve just had a dream where your soul left your body and flowed through me.”
“How do you know that?”
“Please, we need to talk about your visions in Jerusalem.
Johnny pulled on his jeans. “Who are you?”
“Let’s say I’m here to help.”
Johnny sat down on his bedside chair and stared at the man. “Okay, let’s say I believe you. What do you want to talk about?”
“You were given the visions to warn mankind!”
“Warn of what?”
“The Sin Gatherer needed someone to betray him to the authorities for the crucifixion prophesies to come true. The demon Samael sent one of his minions to possess Judas Iscariot, who betrayed him.
Samael, the architect of this universe, cannot leave the thirteenth dimension, where Christ banished him. His daughter, the Angel of Darkness can leave–she has great power. There are men who are carrying out tests that will open doors to other dimensions; if the door to the thirteenth dimension is opened Samael and his minions will inherit the earth!”
“What can I do?”
“You must stop this at all cost!
Johnny felt his eyes becoming drowsy, and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. He awoke with the sound of mail dropping through the letter box. What had happened during the night came thundering back into his mind. Did it happen or had it been a dream? If it was just a dream what was he doing sitting in the bedside chair with his jeans on. He jumped up and searched the flat, but the tramp had gone, if he had been there at all.
The rest of the day, when he wasn’t working on his columns, Johnny spent agonising over what he had heard the previous night. He phoned an old acquaintance that lectured on physics at Edinburgh University. “Ray, how’s it going?”
“Johnny Duncan, well, well, it’s been a while. Are you still freelancing?”
“Yeah, listen I need to pick your brains about doors to different dimensions. Are boffins working on a powerful machine at the moment?”
“Well, there’s the Large Hadron Collider at CERN, and I’ve heard rumours they will carry out experiments at a secret location in the Mojave Desert; in fact I think it’s pretty soon. They will answer a few questions I reckon! Portals to other dimensions are the things of science fiction at the moment, but–who knows.”
After the phone call he sat staring out of his window, the trees swayed in the wind, which swept in off the North Sea. What was he to do?
Time to go in search of a drink–it was Saturday night after all. He washed and shaved then donned a clean T-shirt and headed out to the Pageant Bar in the centre of town.
A band was blasting out rhythm and blues standards in the pub. Johnny bought a pint of Guinness and stood at the crowded bar. He gazed at a football match on a screen above the heads of people seated along a far wall.
Saturday night brought bunches of fancy dressed women out on hen parties into the bar where they mingled with groups of men knocking back rounds of spirits. Caught between two such groups Johnny thought of leaving when there came a tap on his shoulder.
“I’m still waiting for that dinner mister!” Shouted a voice he recognised.
He turned around and the figure that stood in front of him transfixed him to the spot. “Veronica!” He jerked his head back and opened his eyes wide in surprise. “What…? I can’t believe it's you!”
“In the flesh,” she said with a dazzling smile.
“How did you find me? And what are you doing over here?”
“Well, how about buying me a drink and I’ll explain.”
He bought her a vodka and lime juice, and they headed over to a table with two empty seats.
“One of your former colleagues at the Dundee Courier told me the best place to find you on a Saturday night was in here. I looked in earlier, but couldn’t see you, so I had a walk around town for a while.” She took a sip from her drink as the band launched into another number. “The next parts delicate. After you featured on the front of 'Time' my paper wanted to get an interview with you, and I told them I could get it.”
“And me thinking you had come all the way here to see me.”
“Listen Mister, you’ve no idea how many favours I had to call in to be here.”
“Och, I’m only kidding; I’m glad to see you,” he said, finishing his pint. “Like another?”
“Why not.”
“Well don’t go away,” he said as he stood up and headed to the bar.
Johnny looked at her as he waited for the drinks. She wore a tight knee length black skirt and a puffy, suede jacket over a white blouse. Her hair, as before, was brushed back into a short ponytail.
He took the drinks back to the table just as the band finished the number. “There you go madam,” he said as he placed a glass in front of her.
“These visions, did they happen on the day I saw you at the pool?”
“Yup, and more. Listen, let’s finish these and go somewhere quieter.”
“Okay. I’m staying at a bed-and-breakfast by the harbour.”
They strolled along the High Street and then entered The Town House Hotel. The lounge was fairly full, but Johnny managed to find them an empty booth.
He bought two drinks and then sat beside Veronica, who sat on a bench seat which faced the door. Laughter drifted through the air from other booths.
“So what actually happened?” Veronica asked.
Johnny described what happened in both visions.
“Now it seems I’m either flavour of the month or shit of the week depending on your point of view.”
“You’ve opened a can of worms in the States.”
“I’m wishing I had kept quiet.”
“No, I think you were meant to witness the visions then tell the world.”
“Well, 'Time' did that, but there’s more to tell and I need a bigger media.” He took a long sip from his pint. “Changing the subject: it’s a bit late for dinner now. Can I buy you a takeaway curry? And there’s wine left in a bottle back at my place.”
“You don't waste any time, and you certainly know how to treat a gal” Veronica said with a radiant smile.
“I'm just so glad to see you.”
“Well lets slow up a bit. I haven't been in Scotland before.”
They climbed the worn steps that led to Johnny’s front door. The stale air in the stairwell smelled of garlic. Veronica laughed at Johnny as he climbed the stairs in the ‘lead boots’ routine with the takeaway from a local Indian restaurant.
All laughter stopped, however, as they turned the corner by the close window and faced his front door.
“Jesus!” Johnny shouted as he leapt the remaining steps and stood in shock on the landing.
“What the…?” Veronica said.
Painted on his light oak-stained door was a large, red swastika.
Johnny tried his door to see if it was locked. He then touched the swastika. “It's paint.” He said as he unlocked the door. “I’ll need to check the flat. Just stay there please.”
He switched the lights on, then surveyed all the rooms. Everything was untouched; no one had been in the flat. “Its okay you can come in!” he shouted from the living-room, but she was already in the small hallway closing the front door.
“Have you any idea who would have done that?” Veronica asked. “You should report this to the police.”
“Oh it’s just some idiot. Let’s not have it spoil our evening.”
“Well, okay.”
“Sit down, make yourself at home,” he said, opening out an arm toward the living-room.
He headed into the kitchen with the takeaway and appeared a few moments later with two heaped plates. He set them on the coffee table and then returned to the kitchen where he grabbed a half full bottle of red wine from the fridge.
Veronica perused his CD collection, “Is it okay if I put on some music?”
“Sure!” he shouted from the kitchen.
She hit the power button on the player and popped a disk into the drawer which had opened. Music wafted around the room
“Perfect. Debussy,” said Johnny as he re-entered the living room with the bottle and two glasses.
“Nice looking kids,” Veronica said, nodding toward the photographs on the mantelpiece of the redundant fireplace. “Both yours?”
Yeah that’s Caitlin she’s eight and her brother, Brad, he’s ten. They both stay with their mother and her partner.” He pushed a heaped forkful into his mouth. “You got any kids?”
“No, I was engaged once, but it fell through;I was too busy with my career I guess.”
“Any regrets?”
“Yeah, sometimes I think I would have liked to have been a mom.”
“There’s still time. I think you would make a great mum.”
After they had eaten their fill of the curry Johnny cleared the dishes away and switched on the television. He flipped through the channels, finally settling for a black and white French film with sub-titles.
They settled back on the settee, and Johnny put his arm around her shoulders. She responded by putting her head on his chest. He lifted her head up and kissed her moist lips. She manoeuvred into a position where she could kiss him with greater passion.
When they paused, he said: “We could continue this in bed.”
“Like I said, you don’t waste any time, mister.” Veronica said before laughing.
Johnny lay in the bed with his hands behind his head and duvet up to his waist. He watched Veronica wriggle out of her tight skirt and then unbutton her blouse. She then undid the clasp of her lacy, white bra, and let it fall to the floor, revealing well formed breasts with large, red nipples.
All this was having the desired effect on Johnny. Veronica turned toward him and said: “Is that a tent pole; or are you glad to see me?”
She climbed onto the bed and pulled the duvet aside to reveal his erection. He sighed as she pulled a flavoured condom over the protrusion and took him in her mouth. He brought his hands down from behind his head and grasped at the duvet as he watched her bobbing head through glazed-over eyes. Just as he was about to gush she stopped and raised her head away from his groin.
Johnny pulled her purple knickers down over her black stockings and rolled her onto her back and gently opened her legs and stroked her before entering her.
He pushed his cock into her core and thrust, deeper and deeper. “Keep going, keep going,” she moaned.
Just as he was about to come he withdrew and then turned her onto her belly; he watched as she raised herself onto her hands and knees, then he slid his left hand from her velvety bottom up her side to caress her breasts. Johnny entered her again and began thrusting, his hips slapping into her backside. He took his hand away from her breasts and again stroked her.
Suddenly, as Veronica shuddered and emitted a sigh, Johnny could hold back no more and he spurted into the sheath.
Johnny opened his eyes and watched the grey daylight pour through the space between his drapes. He then turned his head and smiled at Veronica asleep with the duvet pulled up around her neck.
He went into the bathroom, showered and shaved then, returning to the bedroom, he pulled on his clothes.
“Where are you going?” Veronica asked, in a husky voice.
“I’ve just remembered, I’ve run out of coffee. Would you like a croissant or something?”
“Croissant would be fine–thanks.”
“I’ll be ten minutes,” he said, pulling on a jacket.
He unlocked the front door and stared at the swastika. He would need to cover it with a few coats of stain, he thought as he pulled the door shut with a click of the latch.
Veronica was dozing when the door bell rang. Her consciousness climbed up through the layers of sleep toward awakening much like a diver ascending the depths of an ocean toward the surface.
The doorbell rang again. She climbed out of bed and wrapped Johnny’s bathrobe around her semi-naked body and then crept out of the bedroom and into the cold hallway. She peered through the spy hole, but saw no one. Was this the return of the swastika painter, she thought! A sharp rap on the door brought her out of her reverie.
“Dad! Wake up!” shouted a young voice.
Veronica opened the door, and a small girl with short, light brown hair walked into the hallway.
“Hello. Is my dad still asleep?”
“He’s gone to the store for coffee.”
“Are you his new girlfriend?”
“Well, we’re just friends.”
Veronica followed the girl into the living room where they both sat down.
“My names Caitlin.”
“How do you do Caitlin? I’m Veronica.”
“You’re pretty. My dad needs a girlfriend like you. He gets lonely sometimes.”
“Well thank you. You’re very pretty yourself.”
“Are you American?”
“Yes.”
“Could you and Dad take me to Disneyland?”
Veronica laughed. “We’ll see.”
They both turned when they heard a key in the front door latch.
“Dad!” Caitlin shouted as Johnny pushed open the door.
“Hey, princess!”
She ran and hugged Johnny. “What’s that on the door? I forgot to ask Veronica.”
“So you two have introduced yourselves,” he said, giving Veronica an approving look. “That’s just a friend of mine mucking around baby.”
“Dad, Veronica said you and she would take me to Disneyland in America.”
Veronica raised her eyebrows and said: “Hey wait a minute I never said…”
“It’s okay Veronica I can guess what was said,” interrupted Johnny, giving Caitlin a disapproving look before bursting into laughter.
“Gran and I were wondering if you would like to come shopping.”
“I know, I spoke to Gran downstairs. I’ve got some work to do I’m afraid princess.”
“Aw Dad!”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out ten pounds. “Here, buy yourself something.”
“Okay, thanks.”
A car horn sounded.
“I’ve got to go,” said Caitlin, rising from the settee.
Johnny walked after her into the hallway. “Remember and be back for four; or I’ll have your mother on my back.”
“Okay–see ya!”
“Great meeting you!” shouted Veronica.
After a few moments Johnny came back into the living room.
“What a great kid,” Veronica said.
“Yeah–she’s a handful.”
After breakfast Veronica showered and dressed. The pair then strolled through the streets of Arbroath toward the harbour. They stopped outside her bed-and-breakfast, which was opposite the yacht filled harbour. Johnny gazed at a seagull as it tried to balance on top of a mast.
“Well, I’d better go, I’ve got things to do,” he said.
“Thanks for last night.”
“Yeah, it was good.”
Veronica sighed. “I must go and write up the article I suppose. Will you come down and see me tonight?”
“Just try to keep me away.”
They kissed then Johnny walked home with one thing upper most in his mind: that damned swastika!
Veronica phoned him while he was looking at the front door with shade card in hand. “That bigger media you talked about last night; I think I can pull a few strings and have you interviewed by an ABC team.”
“Oh Veronica, I don’t know. I’ve been interviewed on television before and didn't like it.”
“Come on John what have you got to lose!”
“Well, probably quite a lot, but okay.”