Sundown Tragedy, The

ลำดับตอนที่ #2 : One

Reese had a full memory of summer 1939—a summer so long and so hot.  And at the very beginning of this memory, he was sitting alone on his bed, in the house on Broad Street, rolling the knight in his hand.  The paleness of the little stone matched the pureness of his skin.  Reese traced for roughness but could not find any. 

Then, before he knew it, he had run out time.

            Reese thought perhaps there never was time; that he had quickly used up all the time he had of his life.  And those past years before summer 1939, they had been the years Reese would choose to remember.

            Before that summer, Reese’s memory was of biking and loitering in the streets.

            He also thought, that if he could choose to relive those years, he would live them very differently, that every minute and second, every day and night, would be treasured.

            But he had run out of time.

Reese returned the chessman to the board.  On that morning that it began, he remembered the flaming silence that flared through his room.  Coming slowly to his bedroom window, he could feel every bit of the city dust that touched and drifted past his body.  He put a hand on the closed window.  The windowpane was cold, cold like the air behind it.  Reese studied the empty streets.  Every building looked much the same—the rows of houses which led all the way up to the dark, morning horizon.

That morning, he thought the sun would never rise, or if it did, it would never shine like it used to.  That morning, the horizon showed very little sign of the old sun, that it was a thick, murky wall and the sun was lost behind it.  If he was lucky, then the sun still existed.

Then came a boy and his mother.  They ambled slowly down the pavement.  Reese studied their little shadows as they walked.  Their shadows stretched onto the street by them, showing very little of their original shape.  When they came close enough, that the boy’s hair began to reveal its true, golden colour, Reese knew for certain that his nightmares had come true.

            Soon it all was over.  The house on Broad Street was swept away by a wave of silence.  Only the ticking of the clock was there for Reese to hear—and his mother’s whispers, coasting weakly into his ears.

            “It’s all right, love,” she said.

            On his bed, his mother put a hand on his.  Her hand was warm and soft, but Reese slowly pulled himself away.   He stared ahead at the other bed.  His eyes would stay there, on the empty bed; they would stay until the world’s end.

            “I’m sure he’ll visit,” said his mother, “Or if not then we shall visit.”

            Reese believed, for a second, that the boy he had known for years would be gone forever.  But the boy had said to Reese that he would return.  He would return when it all was over.

            Reese could not imagine how long forever could be.  He would always think of it only as long as a lifetime.  What Reese feared was that forever could mean a road stretching miles and miles and beyond.  What Reese feared was that forever could also be longer, much longer, too long for him to wait.

            But perhaps one day Eric would be back on Reese’s doorstep—not anymore an eleven-year-old, but a man, in his thirties, where he would come in for tea and where they would talk as strangers.

            Perhaps too, one day they would together stand on that very endless road and look back, into the immeasurable distance that they had separately come…

            “Cry, love,” she said, “It’s all right to cry.”

            She softly wiped the tears off Reese’s eyes.  Her fingers were, as Reese remembered, clean and gentle.

            “Then come downstairs, love,” said his mother, “For some breakfast.  I’ll cook your favourite.”

            Before she left, she stuck the letter into his fingers by his knees.  Reese’s touched the large scar on his arm.  The skin round it looked dead, but Reese thought it was still wet.  Still wet of blood.

            Perhaps the boy knew from earlier that Reese would not be brave enough to say good-bye, so he chose to write a letter.

            Like a filmstrip replaying itself, Reese could remember exactly how Eric Aldridge walked away that morning.  Reese did not dare to go downstairs to meet the boy, but had watched carefully from his window.  He knew it had become an unforgivable mistake—too late to change.

            Eric said he would be on a train—that the train would clank away on its rail—that it would take him all the way to his new home.

            Sometimes Reese wished he was a bit stronger, like Eric or the other boys at school—like Walter.  But he knew he had far too many wishes.  He knew too, that wishes were just wishes, begging for things that could only happen in Gus’ fairy tales.

‘I wish...’

            It began.

            ‘I wish I didn’t have to and so do you.  I’m also excited.  Train’s eight o’clock straight, and I’m nervous.  At least I’ll be safe, Mum says.  Anyway, I’ll write when I’m in that cosy cottage I told you about and make you bit jealous.  Wizard, isn’t it?  Mum says it’s going to be just smashing, and Dad thought so too.  At first, it was I who didn’t.

            So what do I do?  I keep my gob shut.  And I’ll miss you, old sod.  Look after old London while I’m gone please.  Remember what I said?  Stay away from the Germans and you’ll be safe.  You best be keeping those eyes peeled.

            I’ll see you soon.  Maybe they’ll send you to Wales to live with us!

            Your best mate.

            By the by, happy birthday! (in advance)’

            It was a loud, undying sound that ignited in his skull.  It was as if Eric was sitting there next to him, pounding the words into his ears.  Reese remembered Eric’s voice.  It was much different from anything else he had ever heard.  Reese himself was adrift—in the Thames—in the rippling of the water...

            Reese thought, perhaps it was a sound of recovery sent by the angels; a sound that would wash away all the wounds of his body.

            That eventually, everything would vanish, into a brand new day.

The new day was cold and breathless, but it came.  Outside the fogged roads were not much different from any other morning, but the sun was coming out.  The sun—as Reese had always hoped—should soon sit in the pinnacle of the sky.  Although the sky would still be grey as it always had been, the fog should burn away and summer should return.

He spent at least a minute on the chessboard, made his move, his bed and got into his school clothes.  Reese knew that over the summer holidays he had not grown much bigger, for his shorts did not feel any smaller.

Reese had a tiny remembrance of his bedroom.  He remembered the smell of the walls.  It smelt of old wood, as if once burnt to rubble.  The little table between the two beds in the room sat the chessboard and small picture frames.  Reese looked at the window and its curtains.  He remembered how they would move as a jolt of wind hit.

Downstairs, a nine-year-old Gus was waiting readily in his clean school clothes.  He had his lucky cap over his head.  The cap he wore was a brown, ivy cap; one that was given to him by his grandmother on his last birthday in spring.  He loved the cap; he loved it that he would keep it on his head, even in his sleep.

“Hurry, Reese,” he first said deliriously, “Hurry, Reese.”

Gus had been most excited about the first day of school, but Reese only walked quietly past him and towards the dining table, where Mum had served a full meal of bacon, eggs and toast.  Chester, their dog, followed them.  Gus loved Chester.  He was a small dog.  He had white, soft fur and a bell on his old, brown collar.

Reese looked out the closest window.  To Reese’s favour, the fog was dying and the sun was beginning to shine. 

“Why’d he leave?”

“What?”

“Leave,” said Gus at the table, “Why’d he leave?”

“Who?”

“Eric.  Why’d he leave?” Gus repeated in a whisper.

Eric had too been a friend of Gus.  He would usually come by in the mornings to give him a game of chess or even Chinese chequers.

But as the question struck, Reese would suddenly retrieve the memory he had of the other morning, the morning that Eric came and left.  Reese would remember how he himself sat and waited on his bed.  He would remember the silence of the room, the one that lingered all the way through that misty morning.

“Reese.”

Called back to reality, Reese had not yet found an answer to the question.  It was as if there was in fact no definite answer, and that Reese did not need to say anything.

“Eric?  Well, I don’t know,” Reese said, “Why are you whispering?”

Gus edged towards Reese cautiously, and then very quietly spoke, “Mummy says not to say nuffink about Eric.”

“Well?”

“Tis only curious.”

            “You’re a nosy ‘un then, aren’t you?” Reese secretly tried to force a smile.

            “Not nosy.  Tis curious.”

            “Same thing.  I s’pose,” said Reese, “Well.  When he’s gotta go, he’s just gotta go.  Now do stop asking.” 

            “Will he be back?”

             Again, Reese remembered what Eric said.  Eric said he would be back when it all was over.  But it all had not really started.

Earlier before Eric’s leaving, Reese would mostly remember the rehearsal.  It was a usual dark morning and Reese followed his classmates and teachers down the long road.  They would go to the train station, carrying their big cases and masks.  Reese even remembered Eric’s comment: “Not that it can happen,” he said, “Them Germans haven’t really the planes.  They used ‘em all up during the War.  It’s peace in our time!”

“They made new ‘uns, then,” said Reese.

“Haven’t the pennies, they,” Eric replied with a much convincing smile.

            But Eric had gone.

            “Reese?”

            “Yes?”

            Gus shrugged. 

            Before that summer, mornings had been mostly bright and nights had been starry. 

            Reese gave the last bit of bacon to Chester, finished his own plate and headed slowly to the kitchen.  His mother stood by the sink.  Reese flushed his plate clean under the running tap. 

            “Alright, love?” asked his mother.

            Reese nodded slowly and felt as the tap water soaked his hands.  He wiped them on a tea towel.

            “Are you sure?”

            “Yes, Mum.”

            She combed his hair gently with her fingers.

            “Have you got everything then, love?”

            “Yes.”

            “Coins in your pocket?”

            “Yes.”

            “Fancy, then.  Let me here them clink.”

            Reese clinked them in his pocket.

            “And your mask?”

Reese remembered the day when he was first given the gas mask.  It came in a small box, looking much like a Christmas present.  His father unhesitatingly unsealed the box, pulled out the mask and told Reese to try it on.  The mask had a horrible smell of rubber, and was uncomfortably big for his face.  “It’s either rubber or gas,” said his father.

            If Eric was there, he would have said, “It won’t ever happen.  They used up all the gas the last time.”  But Eric would not know.  He was not born when the last time began.

            Reese, though, had heard of many different stories of the War.  They were stories from his father’s childhood—stories like how he almost came to lose his arm and leg under a starless sky filled with Zeppelins.

            In front of Mum, Reese felt the mask box by his knees. 

            “Reese,” Mum looked at him, “Remember?”

            “Chin first,” said Reese, “Must we do it again?”

            “I know, dear.  It’s best we keep our eyes open.  In war it is.”

“We’re not in war, Mum.”

“Nothing under your bed?  Your shoes.  Are they polished?”

            “Yes, Mum,” sighed Reese.

            “Right, love.  Remember what I said.  Forget about them.  And you’re older now.  First day—it must be fun,” said Mum, holding his shoulders tight and smiling.  “Don’t you worry.”

Reese nodded.

            “Good boy, then.  I’ll see you after school,” said Mum.

            “Oh.  I have football.”  Reese had not told Mum about this before.  “Eric said-”

            “Are you sure you’re up for it?” Mum asked somewhat worriedly.

            But Eric told him he was ready.  Eric told him he must go to this game.  Before Eric’s leaving, he made Reese promise to take over his place in the team.  That afternoon, it would be his first game, after that fight with Walter.

            “How are you going to get home, then?”

            “I can walk.  Please, Mum.  I can walk.”

            “You needn’t beg.  You just be back before tea, though, love.  You mustn’t worry your father, you know that.”

            Again, Reese nodded.

            “Now, you’ll be all right?”

            “Yes, Mum.”

            “Must I go in with you this morning?”

            “No, Mum, don’t.  Please don’t.  I’m almost eleven.”

            “Just almost,” she said, “As you say, big boy.  Off you go.”

            “Love you, Mum,” said Reese. 

            Mum pecked him on the forehead and sent him off the kitchen.  Reese only had the chance to smile cautiously before he was already out there, in the bright morning sun.  He suddenly lost his courage.

            “And be safe, love,” was the voice that stalked even all the way to the kerb, where the bus would soon plunge down Broad Street.

            Gus did not take long before he was out there too on the doorstep. 

            “Wot?  Are you nervous?” he said, peeking strangely over Reese’s shoulder.  This was, to Reese, a distinctive approach.

            Reese nodded honestly and tried to return a stronger voice, “Are you?”  Reese’s memory of school had been largely frightening, especially after his fateful fight with the local bully, Walter MacClive.  But Gus was never happier.  Gus’ memory of school had been of friends, games and choir classes.  But both of them were to meet new friends.  For Reese, he hated that part most.  He could still feel the trembling of his body.  Reese thought, the trembles—they could be normal—that perhaps they happened in everybody; that perhaps Eric had them too.

            And Eric had gone.  Reese thought he would have to face Walter alone, that he would be surrounded and cornered by many unfriendly and laughing faces, looking down at him.

            “Reese?”

            “Yes?”

            “Tis afternoon.”

            “If it’s about football, it’s no.”

            “Please?”

            “No.”

            And just for a second that Gus had stopped talking, Reese would see Walter’s face again.  Walter’s face was big and wide, with crooked teeth and dark eyes.

            “Reese?”

            “And who says I was going?” Reese said.  Gus’ voice had saved him.  It had instantly drawn him back to reality.

            “Mummy did.  She says you’re in it.”

            “Mummy did?  I’m in it?”

“Come on, Reese.  You’re in it,” pleaded Gus, “Yes you are!”

“Cor, Gus!  Get off.  Not to-day, it’s special.”

            “So am I.”

            Reese choked.  “Oh, shutcha trap.  You know it’s not gonna happen.  If I mess up, you know, Walt will eat me.”

“But you won’t.  Reese, I do hate coming home by meself.”

“But Mum wouldn’t let you anyway.  Last time you went you almost died of asthma, remember?  You got me in trouble.”

            “Tis only an accident.  Me asthma’s gone.  And Mummy lets me.”

“Gone?  Since when?”

“Yesterday.”

“Cheeky.  You can’t play on this one.  The team’s filled up.”

“I don’t have to play.  I can watch.  Really.”

            “Cor, is that fun?”

            Gus poked out at Reese’s cheeks, on his daring mission to form a ‘yes’ on his brother’s face.  In a bit of fight, Reese managed to break free.  He breathed a laugh:

            “Oh, donkey.  You’re getting it!”

            Then, despite their clean clothes, the two dropped and rolled on the ground.  Holding Gus down, Reese tickled him playfully.  An edge of Gus’ mask box poked into Reese’s ribs.  After a while, the two kicked themselves back onto their feet. 

            Reese pulled his satchel off the ground.  Gus fixed his lucky cap.  The two wiped their eyes, checked their satchels, and fixed their collars for the last time.  Reese looked at the road and he modestly smiled.

            Then, at the farthest corner, the school bus finally crawled into sight.