The Old Man and the Angel by Warren Griffiths - HTML preview

Of course it never came. As if I would allow that to happen.

Remember earlier in the story I referred to Warwick being a hero? OK, I didn't exactly say he definitely would be a hero but I kinda left the door open. Under the right circumstance, anyone can be a hero and the circumstance in this case is a child under threat. Either way, the sickening thud she heard did not belong to her but the thug who intended to deliver the fatal blow.

She opens her eyes. She sees Warwick but this is not the Warwick she had come to know. This one was different. This one was angry. One look into his eyes almost chilled her to the bone. The man staggers to his feet only to reel backwards as Warwick swings hard his fist slamming hard into the other's face.

Blood and teeth erupt from the thug’s mouth. Warwick swings again. He wasn’t holding back. Years of pent up frustration, of avoiding conflict, of not facing his fears … no more … NO MORE! Everything is unleashed like a burst dam releasing a raging torrent of pent up ... whatever it was that was pent up inside him.

Picking up a piece pipe lying discarded in the alleyway, he stands over the other raising his arms over his head ready to deliver the fatal blow.

She reaches forward in an attempt to stop him.

“Dad … no … no!”

He stops mid action shaking with fury still wanting to end that bastard. He raises his head and looks at her with those eyes so full of anger.

She talks him down.

“No ... no.”

Gradually, the softness returns. He drops the weapon beside the groaning but otherwise inert figure surrounded by a crimson halo.

She grabs him by the arm, "We need to go ... quickly.”

They run from the alleyway driven by adrenaline. Around the corner, they come across a pay phone that actually works. She grabs the handset, dials 000, reports that there was a victim of a bashing and gives the location. Hanging up, she drags him to the riverbank where they collapse on the grassy bank gasping for breath.

For what seems like ages, they don’t speak. They were too busy staring wide-eyed and breathless into space trying to figure out what just happened. In the background, sirens grow in volume until they are suddenly silenced not too far away, in an alleyway.

Warwick stares at his bloody and now swollen hand examining it as if noticing it for the first time.

"You know," he said after a moment of investigation, "that felt good.”

She looked at him with a somewhat surprised look on her face.

"You nearly killed a man and you say that felt good. That's a bit of a worry."

"Yea ... I mean no. I stood up. I acted. I didn't run away."

She grabs his arm still shaking.

"And I'm very glad for that. The truth is you always could but because you thought there was no reason to, you didn't."

"You were my reason.”

“I know ... thank you, but you can also be your own reason. You need to live for you, not someone else.”

They hug each other, sharing a moment of incredible closeness. By coincidence, young Mr pole-up-his-arse from the restaurant happens to be passing by and sees them. Warwick gets that strange feeling of respect again. It makes him get his gloweyness back and I really don't care that that isn't a real word!

He pauses deep in thought as the realisation dawns on him.

"I really can do this. I can leave. I can start a new life.”

She smiles, "Yes you can. In fact you probably need to in case there happened to be a witness to the whole bashing thing.”

“What?”

Then it hits him.

Shit, I nearly beat someone to death! I’m a criminal! I’m gonna be a fugitive!

She put her hand on his arm, “Don’t worry, I don’t think anyone saw anything and that guy isn’t going to be too willing to talk to the cops. Just play the innocent when they come around asking if you happened to see anything that day.”

How does she always know what I am thinking?

“Africa.”

“Sorry?”

“I could go work in Africa.”

She smiles, “You will do a lot of good there.”

“You could come with me.”

“And do what?”

“I dunno. I’m not sure what you do here. What do you do here?”

She deflects the question.

“I do have to go back and tie up a few loose ends but then I will visit you wherever you are.”

"But … I could be anywhere!”

She brushes his cheek. "I found you once, I can do it again. Please go live your life."

…

The next few weeks were going to be hectic. For a start, he would have to talk to his receptionist. Tell her that he was leaving and she would have to make alternate arrangements. Then there was all his stuff. He looks around his apartment. It can all go, I’m taking nothing with me. No baggage! For the first time ever, no baggage!

Then finally the day arrives and he is ready, shaking with terror but ready.

Good-bye miserable city, Good-bye miserable apartment block, goodbye miserable … “oughhh!”

That last incomprehensible word was the result of his face coming into contact with a light pole. One should really look where they are going when they are saying goodbye to their old ... life.

Juliette meets him at the cafe by the river where they first had coffee.

“What happened to you?”

He looks sheepishly at her, “Wasn’t looking where I was going.”

He hands her a copy of the placement form.

“This is where I will be for the next six months, maybe longer if it all goes well.”

“I will find you.”

“There may not be any phones out there.”

“I will find you.”

He was about to come up with something else but she put her finger to his lips.

“I … will … find … you.”

He relaxes, “I know you will.”

They hug their farewells.

“Are you all ready for your adventure?”

He nods his head, “Yes.”

“Have you got everything?”

Warwick thought for a second and then with a smile was able to say, “Everything.”

…

Our story ends where many do:

At the edge.

Of a roof.

On a building.

In the city.

If anyone at street level had bothered to look up, they would have seen a lonely figure at the precipice head bent forward, looking down at the scene below. But busy people don't look up. They are too busy being busy to do that even though she had been there for some time. She sighs, spreads her arms, arches her back and dives forward into the abyss.

It was on that night, the night of the wonderful dinner that she had decided that this would be the night. That night she was going to invite him into her flat, sit him down on the couch, and tell him everything. As it turned out she neglected one quite significant thing. The whole him about to kiss her kinda threw her a bit but in the end maybe he doesn’t need to know. Not yet, he had had enough major events in his life for the time being.

She summersaults, sprouts the most beautiful pair of wings from only God knows where and with a knowing wink to you dear reader, swoops upwards and takes flight into the blue sky with its puffy white clouds.

…

I suppose you want an explanation don't you? Very well.

There was a girl who had a sad mother.

"I was a bad person,” she used to say, "I led a good man on and broke his heart. God will punish me for my sins. I know he will.”

As the years went on the Mother's health worsened and the girl became her carer. So pure was her heart that she never complained and was always attentive even when the turbulent teenage years threatened to lead her astray.

She never stopped caring. But throughout this, she always wondered about the man who fathered her. She knew nothing about him apart from the fact that he was on the other side of the world and he was a very good man who should have been treated better.

She sighed and guided her ailing mother into her wheelchair ready for some fresh air and sunshine. She released the brake and took her place at the rear. He may as well have been on the other side of the galaxy, she was going nowhere.

Events change lives. Unexpected events change lives unexpectedly. A driver full of drink can swerve suddenly into a crowd of people and in all those people, those dozens of strangers two are hit as if singled out. The medics did all they could but in the end it was not enough. For the mother … relief. She gladly embraced the peace and end of her pain but for sweet Juliet there was a quest that not even the promise of heaven could sway her from.

You would think that death could have a serious impact upon one’s ambitions, but this may not always be the case. For example, if your ambition was to scare your enemies into an early grave by haunting them then death is pretty much a pre-requisite. Juliet had no such intent but passing on did not seem to be the hindrance that one would expect. In fact, it was made easier by suddenly having access to divine resources. Like the internet on steroids.

Ah, there he is … oh … such a sad sad man.

She felt the tears well up in her eyes. Here was another parent who needed her help. A lot of help by the look of it. It looks like there’s not a second to lose, someone needs serious saving.

So that was the thing not said on the night of the wonderful dinner or afterwards. She should have probably told him everything earlier but he seemed so fragile that she wasn’t sure he could take it.  I mean going up to someone you have never met before and saying, “Hi I’m your twenty year old daughter and, by the way, I’m also dead!” Depending upon their state of mind, that could either make or break their day! She would need to pick her time. In the end she decided that time was never. It may not be the truth, but sometimes the truth is not always the best option.

…

It has been three weeks since Warwick's former receptionist, whose name is Clare by the way. Clare … readers … readers …Clare. Anyway, it had been three weeks since Clare had stared at a computer screen. It didn't seem to worry her though. Nor did she seem to miss all that face-booking or whatever it is called.

She had a lot more other things to occupy her time. Dozens of grubby soooo poor and yet soooo giving and ever smiling children each begging for her attention, “me … me … me.”

And does she enjoy all this attention? Of course she does, I fully intend to have a happy ending here. During the day, she tells them stories and walks them to the schoolhouse. Then she takes her place next to her dentist hero as he goes about his work. As it turns out, she is quite a good nurse. And at night they lay in each other's arms content with themselves and their world.

So she actually did like him, enough to follow him to the other side of the planet, she was just too scared to actually talk to him so she avoided as much contact as she possibly could without actually resorting to not turning up. Well, she needed the money after all.

Sometimes the people you think don’t like you may actually do. Its all because we never say what is really on our minds. So go up and strike up a conversation with someone you think doesn’t like you. Just don’t blame me if they punch you in the face.

Tomorrow is plane day. Plane day is where the weekly plane arrives with supplies and occasionally, whenever Warwick wishes really hard, a beautiful guest who would steal a little time to visit sending all the men in the village into a frenzy.

He still calls her his angel not really realising just how right he is.

...

This work is copyright Warren Griffiths, 2014. Apart from any use permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced by any process, nor may any other exclusive right be exercised, without the permission of the author.