Black soul rose by John Jones... - HTML preview

Glenn

His abode was three miles away from the school, the longest of any of them, and he passed by shops, a small wood with a football pitch attached, and several rows of houses. He always passed by a hairdressers which looked like it had been there many years. Half of its front was taken up by a tin foil mirror, but he always caught himself when he passed it.

Even when he was a pensioner, he never liked what he saw in the mirror, but here was a possessed child who didn’t look anything special, except for his hairstyle. Large, wavy, bouffant.

I look like a fucking dog, he thought. That does not suit me. I want it chopped off, but he had no money on him to walk in the hairdresser, so simply resolved to come back when he could and get something shorter. It reminded him of Dorothy when she was a pensioner. He had long wispy hair, balding on top.

What is it with some old people? he wondered. Why do they have long hair? Or ponytails. Do they really think it suited them? Was it a late-life crisis? Clinging to youth.

Whatever, up to them. Do what they like. Although when they were pensioners he was often tempted to tell him that he didn’t suit his long hair and maybe he should think about getting it cut.

Whereas this was more suited to an Irish water spaniel, and sometimes it got in his eyes, and he wondered why people allowed that to happen. If your hair gets in your eyes, get a fucking haircut. Common sense, but some people didn’t, because you know, fashion. Glenn knew that some folk went too far for fashion.

So maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

It’s still getting chopped off at the first opportunity, he thought, and continued on his way home.

50

When he got there, his mother Gwenda reminded him that tomorrow his father was picking him up as he’s got him for the weekend.

He had noticed that since he had returned, his mother seemed somewhat distant, and guessed ‘old’ Glenn received the same treatment. He got the impression she had barely noticed a change in him.

Although she had, it wasn’t mentioned too much. You had a bit of trauma, you got over it. That’s that. The school and other parents can go into panic mode all they like. She didn’t seem too concerned. Or bothered.

There wasn’t much love coming from her, and he seemed to be kind of ignored.

She wasn’t cold-hearted towards him. Sometimes she tried to show some kind of motherly affection, but that was her at her kindest. She wasn’t a bad mother.

Never truly hostile. Simply more ‘cold’.

Glenn found himself not caring too much about her either. It wasn’t worth trying to get under her wing, as there wasn’t much there of interest to him.

So she was boring, cold, and ignored me a lot, Glenn had mused. Fuck her then if that’s how she is.

Her depression stemmed, or was exacerbated when Stephan, Glenn’s father, wanted a baby with her. Gwenda, however, was one of those women that was adamant since her teenage years that she never wanted kids. The thought of an icky, smelly baby was off-putting to her and at one point she even thought of being sterilized, but Stephan, knowing this, still stayed with her, as that was usually a deal-breaker when it came to relationships. If one didn’t want kids, and the other did, then that usually meant the end of that relationship.

However, Stephan stayed, and one passionate night he deliberately split the end of the condom to get her pregnant, and when she’d discovered the tear, instantly went to get a morning after pill. However, living in a village, the pharmacy was of not much use. There were no pills, and ordering one in would take more than a week, where it would have no effect.

The thought of abortion horrified her. Having steel probes inserted here and there disgusted her. The thought of all the blood, the foetus, the killing of something living.

No, she thought. I may as well have it.

So she did.

51

Stephan was her public enemy number one though, because despite all the precautions she guessed he had done it on purpose, and he confessed. Once cornered, he admitted everything.

So he was out. Dropped like a stone, despite his yearning to be a family.

When the baby arrived, she suffered post-natal depression. Didn’t even want to see or hold it.

When she did, as is usually the case with babies, nature works its magic to change the mind of the mother insofar as she had ‘some’ affection for it. Yet it still felt like she was holding somebody else’s baby.

Like he was adopted by somebody who didn’t really want to, but said yes anyway.

A basic household throughout the years without much affection. She didn’t hate Glenn. In fact she actually quite liked him in a way, and would rather he be here than not.

As for a mother’s love, a motherly bond. Non-existent.

Stephan’s underhand tactic to get her pregnant helped spiral her downwards into manic-depression, and she was on three different types of medication which she took to keep a lid on. To stop her cutting herself or jumping under a bus. She didn’t have much by way of friends, and a sense of humour came by only occasionally.

The following day, in a battered Mini-Cooper which pulled up outside the house, his father sat looking at him, with a drooping moustache and a dour look on his face, wearing a polo shirt.

“So this is my weekend Dad,” Glenn said at the doorway.

“Yes, see you tomorrow”.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes, come on you weren’t traumatised that much, were you?”

“Yes. I was,”

52

“Well get over it. He’ll drop you back here tomorrow at three. See you then,”

then she closed the door, and he saw she ignored his father even more than him.

Glenn walked across and entered the passenger seat.

“Alright then daddy, where are we going?” Stephan Dolman simply looked at him as though the wrong child had entered his car.

“Where we always go remember?”

“No, I don’t. I’ve been traumatised,” Stephan laughed.

“You got lost for a while. Big deal. The school is only going over-the-top because they want to be seen to be doing something. Terrified of a bad report by some government inspectors. Panicking in case they get sued”. Glenn nodded in agreement.

“Ye, possibly”. Stephan drove away.

“So where are we going?” Glenn asked. Stephan sighed.

“We’re going to the library where I volunteer my services giving legal advice, while you read through books, doing your homework or whatever, then we’re going to the supermarket to do our charity work standing outside with our tins collecting money”.

“So basically we’re doing what you want to do then? I’ve got to read boring books”.

“But you like reading the books, getting yourself educated, and it’s a chance to do your homework. I notice you haven’t brought it with you this time”.

“Nope, can’t be bothered, and anyway, if I might actually do what I want to do then perhaps you can take me to get my haircut. I look stupid with this bonnet on my head”.

Stephan swerved the car slightly before regaining control.

“You love that haircut, you’re proud of it”.

“‘Was’ proud of it”.

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright? I know you went through a trauma,”

“No I didn’t,”

“But you lost your memory haven’t you, and you’re not quite the same”.

Glenn folded his arms and sighed.

53

“I’ve literally changed my mind. I want a haircut, which you’re paying for”.

So Stephan took him a nearby barbers, and Glenn had his haircut.

Half an hour later he was in the empty child section of the local library, again, arms folded, staring out of the window, whilst in a corner at one table, using a tablet instead of a laptop, Stephan did his two-hour weekend voluntary legal advice period, which was quite popular. It was for those who did not wish to use an advice bureau, but wanted a quick check as to their legal rights for not too serious domestic disputes or simple legal advice.

Whilst he advised a pensioner on her rights against a neighbour who let their dog bark most of the day in the front garden, and somebody who had hired a plumber who only completed ninety-nine percent of a job, and someone who had lost a good deal of money to an ‘investment company’ through a spam email, he kept looking across to Glenn who was walking around like an animal in a cage. He never picked up any books, just stared out of the window, wandered out of sight, came back, sat down, stood up, wandered out of sight, stood at the window, sat down, stood up, stood at the window.

Old Glenn would have had his head in books and doing his homework, revising.

When he finished, Stephan took him the two miles to the supermarket where he couldn’t have looked more bored standing in the foyer rattling a tin with a few coins in.

“What’s wrong Glenn? You used to love this”.

“Did I?” then he raised his voice slightly, addressing the shoppers toing and froing.

“Come now roll up and give your spare change you miserable fuckers”. A few looked in his direction, but nobody said anything, except Stephan.

“Glenn, language, what’s got into you?”.

“Dunno, maybe the soul of a pensioner”.

“What?”

“Look, I’m fucking bored. I’m just doing what you want to do. Following you round. Is this what I used to do every week?”

“You used to enjoy it, and later on tonight I’m taking you to the tavern to see what local band they’ve got on tonight”.

54

“Really? A band you want to see. Well it doesn’t matter, fuck it. Guess I used to be a daft little cunt”.

“Glenn, stop swearing please,” he said, rattling his tin. The boy simply sighed, and rattled his tin as well.

He stayed in a small, poky little dump that night, a flat above a baker’s, but a cosy one, and met his three-year-old half-sister Harriet, who he didn’t take much interest in, unlike old Glenn who liked and played with her.

Little Harriet was confused, as was Stephan, but Glenn just mentioned his trauma, and went to bed that night dreaming of changing bodies.

It wasn’t too long before school came back around, and first order of the day was therapy session.

Ben was late, but came blustering in as though his alarm had failed to go off that morning and he had ran here.

“Okay guys, sorry I’m late. I thought we’d start our session with a sing-a-long to boost your mood. It’s good for the soul and is very therapeutic. Some of you really got into it last time. Some needed a bit of encouragement, but it lifts your spirits. Oh, and another thing, this is our last session”.

“Thank fuck for that,” said Chantelle.