Oracle in the Mist (5 page)

David had no intention of making conversation with a homeless man. “Well thank you very much for your help,” he said politely.

“Yes, thank you,” said Bobby and without looking at David walked straight out of store to where the man was sitting.

“Excuse me,” she said quite loudly, as he appeared to be in quite a deep slumber. “I'm sorry to disturb you but I heard you might be able to tell me more about the night of the alien ship sighting back in 1930.”

“Wot's dat yer sayin'?” came the answer in a hiss.

“I said I'm sorry to have disturbed you but …”

“Nah, nah, don' be sorry, now lass,” he insisted, rousing himself “‘ey, it looks like yor in da right place at da right time acause me ol' Da, God bless ‘im, Samuel Rankin, jus' ‘appened to be de ol' geezer ‘o saw dat alien spacecraft. You can mark my words, missy; dat is no word of a lie. ‘E was da one dat paper interviewed, like.” He looked up at Bobby and she was able to see him properly at last. Even though he was toothless and smelt of a vile mixture of whiskey and filth she had a feeling she should listen to what he had to say. David appeared at her side and announced he was going home.

“Hang on, David,” she said and pulled at his arm, “we'd love to hear the story, if that's okay,” she said to the old man and hoped to herself that she wouldn't regret this.

* * *

“Or right den,” said the old man but then he began to cough and splutter as if there was a fur ball stuck in his throat. “Aw, would ya look a' dat? Me ‘ealth isn' wot it used to be, dats for sure.”

“You don't say,” said David sarcastically, but the old man seemed oblivious of him.

“Jus' when I goes ta tell me dory, me blasted t'roat goes an' closes right up on me, like. Ya jus' wouldn' read ‘bout it would ya now?”

“Can I get you a drink? Would you like a milkshake?” Bobby offered kindly.

“I was tinkin' a bottle o' whiskey would be more me speed, lassie.”

“Yes, of course it would be. Come on Bobby, we're wasting our time here,” said David and he took Bobby's hand to lead her away. “It's okay,” said Bobby to the old man, glaring at David to get him to hush up. This was their only chance to get a little more information.

“I'll get you some whiskey. Is there anything else?” she offered, much to David's total annoyance.

“Aw, would ya lass? Der's a good girl. An' ol' codger da likes a me gets a rumblin' in ‘is tummy, ya know, bein' breakie time an' all. Dat would be grand, girlie. I'm tinkin' a roast beef roll with extra lashin's of gravy and can ya get me some more ciggies too luv? Marlboro is me fave.”

“Certainly,” said Bobby and the old man continued to do the fur ball cough.

“It's the least we can do,” she whispered to David.

As Bobby was walking back into the store she saw what she thought were many streams of light twisted around one another, floating out through the doorway of the store and flying away into the sky. But she only saw it for a second and then it was gone leaving her blinking and telling herself it was just a sunray reflecting off something nearby. She heard the sound of laughter which gave her an odd feeling of deja vu.

When she entered the store she noticed immediately that it felt completely different to before and couldn't quite work out why. Then she noticed the man behind the counter. He was tall and heavily built, balding and wore a white apron.

“Hello, I was talking to the man who was behind the counter before about the …” and she pointed toward the homeless man. His puzzled look made her stop and he shook his head.

“There's noone here but me, missy. This is my store and I'm the only one here,” he told her as he shuffled toward the back room. Bobby stood with her mouth open, unable to understand what she had just been told. She wanted to ask him more questions but realised it was pointless. Clearly he had no idea whom she was talking about.

In the meantime the old man outside tried to strike up a conversation with David. “My word, ya got yaself a fine one der, lad. An' she's a nice looker too and wif dat peachy …”

“
Please
…” David took a step away as if to leave.

“She's not my girl. She's my friend and I haven't ‘got her' as you put …” He couldn't tolerate the old man on any level and certainly would not put up with disgusting remarks regarding his newfound friend's lovely anatomy. He couldn't even think how to articulate to the man just how much he had offended him.

Bobby returned with what the old man had requested. The children then had to stand by and witness the man eating as if he hadn't eaten in weeks and then wash each mouthful down with the whiskey. As the man devoured the roll, gravy oozed into his moustache and beard and down his already filthy shirt front. David's sensibilities were severely offended beyond return and he had to turn and face the other way.

Every now and then the old man would look up at the children and mutter a food and whiskeysaturated “Yeah, an'” or an “I will tell ya, ‘ang on”. Bobby could see he was having great difficulty in eating the roll, chewing on his gums in his toothless mouth. He let out long exclamations of “Mmmmmmmmmm” periodically as well which also slowed down the whole process. At last the roll was devoured and he then proceeded to lick his fingers one at a time, thoroughly and over and over again until they were spotlessly clean.

David's face turned a light shade of green and he covered his mouth with his hand. Bobby giggled to herself. This was almost too much for poor old David to bear.

“Orrighty den,” the old man finally said, “now where were I?” He opened his new cigarettes and lit one up. “Aw dat's right.” He stood up then and taking a long inhale of the cigarette he blew the smoke full blast into David's face.

“That's disgusting,” David said furiously, finding it was his turn to cough and splutter.

“Wot lad?” asked the old man

“You're enjoying this, aren't you?”

“What's dat lad?” the old man said and Bobby wondered if the old man had any sense at all of what others might think of him and his habits. Probably not, and he possibly wouldn't care anyway.

“Could we hear the story now?” she asked.

“Or right, but only for you, lass. Dat kid is far too serious fa me likin',” and turning to David he said, “You're all uppity kid; wot's eatin' ya?”

“Please, just tell us your story. We have kept up our end of the bargain,” Bobby pleaded.

“Yes, I must say, dat is true lass, I'll do it for you but not for ‘im,” he said pointing a backwards thumb to David.

“Now, where were I?” he said yet again. “Ah yeah, I ‘members now, I do … me poor ol' Da; dis strange occu'rence ‘appened to ‘im, ya see, an' den ‘e wos neva da same again.”

The old man looked thoughtfully up to the sky as if he could actually see his father there.

“I'twern't acause ‘e'd changed, aw anyting like dat. No i'twas dat all da peoples of dis town changed t'ward ‘im afta da inc'dent. All a sud'en like, no one, not one single person took ‘im seri'us anymore. I canna tink why e'ver. An it drove ‘im mad as ya'd ‘xpect. An' not one livin' soul in dis town, you mark my words now, b'lieved ‘im an' then i'twas like dey kinda felt sorry for ‘im or some'in.

But not e'nuff to give ‘im a job or a chance like or ta ‘elp ‘im when da chips were down, which dey were of'en ‘alieve me.”

He stopped then and looked up to the sky again. He shook his head and wiped his eyes even though there were no tears there and then lit up another cigarette and blew smoke rings into the sky. He kept shaking his head as if in disbelief and then lit another cigarette from the one in his hand.

“Ahh, me poor ol' Da,” he said finally, just when Bobby was beginning to think he would never get to the story. “I'm tearin' up, ya know, jus' tinkin' ‘bout ‘im. ‘e was ‘armless too, as ‘armless as dey come … anyway, I best be off den.”

He took his cigarettes and stood up to leave.

“But,” Bobby said in alarm, “you haven't told us the story yet.”

“Wot ‘tory's dat lass?” he asked earnestly.

“The
story about what happened to your father on that night in 1930, remember?”

“Aw, didn' I tell ya dat part yet missy?” he sat scratching his head. “Ya have da forgive me lass, me mind's not as sharp as it used to be … and,” he took his hand to his throat, clasping it. “It's jus' dat me troat's closin' up agin, like. It needs summin' cold an' wet slidin' down it like.”

“That's it! We're going. Can't you see there is no story?

It's all a con job,” David said, fuming and he took Bobby's arm and turned to leave.

“Oh orright, orright, sit down den an' I'll tell ya. Gawd, come on Mr Ser'us. Ya can't blame an' ol' codger like me fa tryin' it on now, can ya?” and he laughed long and hard and slapped his own knee, the tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Ya shoulda seen ya face jus' now lad. Ya look like I'm torturin' ya or sometin'.”

Bobby didn't say anything at all but she could see by David's face that he did indeed feel tortured.

“So, okay den, where was I? Aw, yeah, dat's right. Me Da had a few too many bevies one night an' decided to walk it off up the Brewsters' lane. ‘e couldna go ‘ome, you know, not like dat or me Ma woulda chased ‘im outta der wit' da broom.” He stopped telling the story to have a little giggle to himself but then must have realised that the joke was lost on the children and so he continued on.

“Aw, da way me Da told it ‘twas so funny. Anyways, ‘e's walkin' down da road when off in the distance like, ‘e see's all dese youngins' undoin' da gate at da Brewsters' property an' makin' dare way t'wards da mighty oak dat ev'ryone's always talkin' ‘bout. ‘Twasn't long after dat an' ‘e saw from da spot where ‘e was lyin' by da side of da road, like, d most pecul'ar ting.” Bobby ignored David's visible flinching at the mispronunciation of most of the words.

“Low an' behold, all of a sudden like, de oak tree ‘as dese ‘uge lights dancin' all round an' spinnin', if ya can ‘magine, kinda like a sideways ferris wheel. An' den all dese lightnin' strikes come flashin' out of da tree like, an' no thunder, min' you, jes' lightnin'. Dis went on for ages an' me Da couldna' work out if ‘e was ‘lucinatin', like, or what. Den ‘e passed out from da shock of it like an' woke up da next day on da side o' da road an' took ‘imself ‘ome an' slept it orf. When ‘e woke up later, me Ma told ‘im ‘bout da missin' chil'ren an ‘e realised ‘e ‘adn't jes' been dreamin' an' dat i'twas de aliens orright dat came down an' took dose kids. ‘e rang da paper and da cops straight away. ‘e tort ‘e was ‘elpin'.”

The old man went back to looking at the sky and shaking his head. They waited patiently, enthralled by the story and eager to learn more.

“Dat's right, lass, folks round ‘ere don' like no one talkin' anytin' ‘bout dis an' you know why don' ya? Acause dey are scared out o' dere wits dat dose al'ens will come back down ‘ere and mess wiv ‘em real bad next time. Dey are as frighten' as ‘ell, you mark my words.” He paused again. “An' dey won' like the likes of you two snoopin' ‘round like, alieve me.”

Bobby heard David click his tongue and wasn't sure if it was the threat of aliens that upset him or the use of the word ‘like' three different ways in one sentence.

“An' I tell ya dis, too. Dos kids, aw dey came back orright but, as I sit ‘ere livin' an' breavin', dos kids were neva da same aga'n. You could see it in dar eyes like, ‘specially dat Ina girl.” Bobby exchanged glances with David and they frowned at one another.

“Yes, go on,” Bobby prodded.

“Well, ‘twas as if dey had seen somein' really ‘orrible like but either dey tweren' tellin' or they jes' couldna' remember. No one eva got to da bottom of it, eitha an' dat's how we jes know i'twas aliens, had da've been. Wot else could take da memory ‘way like dat?” He started to cough again. It was clear to Bobby that the old man had come to the end of his story, but was probably about to ask for something else.

“Well, thank you so much for your time and your incredible story, Mister. You have answered some questions for us but now I'd better be off. Goodbye,” she said and shook his hand and she and David turned to walk home.

“Eh,” he shouted out from behind her, “I tort you was diff'ent ta the likes of ‘im. Not ‘alf, mind, not ‘alf!”

Bobby could hear him yelling all sorts of abuse. He must have planned to keep bribing them for things all day. She ignored him and was soon engrossed in conversation with David.

“Well, that was a complete waste of time,” David told her.

“How can you say that? We have a story straight from the son of the only witness in this town of the whole thing. Don't you think that's something?”

“Yes, but how do we know it's even true. He is obviously a homeless drunk and who knows whether his word even counts for anything in this town anyway.”

“I can't imagine why he would make something like that up; the whole story seemed very real to me. And besides, you make it sound like the way he has ended up is his own fault.” Bobby was starting to feel irritated by David's obvious lack of compassion.

“Well of course it's his own fault,” David retorted, looking more flustered than Bobby. “Every man is responsible for his own fate. You can't go on acting the victim and being a charity case forever. And besides, what does ‘not ‘arf' mean anyway? It's a stupid way of talking. Only stupid people use the English language like that. It makes my ears feel like they are going to bleed.”