Marion awoke with a
start, her heart beating fast and a cold fear pervading her mind. Had she been dreaming? What was it that had frightened her? She
looked towards her husband's bed. He was
not there. But she had known he wouldn't
be there.
He had had an emergency call to the hospital and he
hadn't come back yet. She looked at the luminous numbers on the clock. Three
a.m. The phone had rung for him at 1.30 a.m.
It probably would be time for him to arrive back now.
But what had startled her? No, what had, and what was, making her feel a
wave of terror? She was not one for
nightmares.
She had not had
one since she was a child, not a bad one, that is.
It was not unusual for her husband to be called
out at night, and it had never really disturbed
her. She was not even alone.
Besides her two children of eight and five, her father was
in the house. He had been living with
them ever since he had been discharged from the hospital after his stroke six
months earlier.
She got out of bed feeling the soft, shaggy carpet under
her feet as she walked over to the window.
The moon was almost full and she could see her garden quite clearly: the
swing over which the children fought constantly; the large tree that they loved
to climb; the tiny fishpond whose population had been recently trebled after a
visit with her children to the local pet‑shop.
She could see the
sparkle of the water as the light of the moon caught it; and, was it, could it
be, a dash of orange?
She looked towards the garage. Was that a light inside it? She looked at it again.
No, there wasn't was there?
It was probably a
trick of the moon. But there it was again.
It must be the glow of the headlights of her husband's car. She waited, but could see and hear nothing.
Something within her made her slip into a gown and make
her way towards the back door.
On her way, she looked briefly into the mirror to settle
her long, fair curls. She noticed the
anxiety in her eyes which were navy blue , almost black in the darkness.
It was cold and she shivered slightly as she opened the
door quietly and slipped outside towards the garage.
It was in darkness, complete darkness.
But she was sure
there had been a light. She went towards
the double doors and found them unlocked.
That was not unusual.
Her husband often did not lock them when he went out on
a night call, unless, of course, he was actually on night duty.
But what about the light?
She opened the door wider and fumbled for the light‑switch.
The low‑ wattage globe cast eerie shadows across the room. But nothing seemed
to be disturbed. Her husband's workbench and cupboard were as they had been
earlier in the day.
She looked up, and felt as if a cold hand had suddenly
clutched at her heart. Hanging from the roof was a rope, tied in a hangman's
noose.
She stared at it for a few seconds, feeling that she was
unable to move. She was sure that the
rope had come from the work cupboard. But why had it been tied in this
way?
Who had done it? She looked carefully around the garage,
feeling a sense of not being entirely alone.
She walked towards the far side of the cupboard towards
the only possible hiding place.
And then she
heard a sob.
She saw him, sitting on the floor, his head in his
hands.
He was trying to
hide, but it was not the furtive hiding of a burglar. This was a person who appeared totally
dejected and desperate.
She looked up again at the hangman's noose and then she
knew. The ghastly picture became all too
clear. But why their garage?
He seemed to be little more than a child: fourteen,
fifteen, not more, surely. She could not
see his face. All she could see was a
mass of dark curls.
He must have known she was there but he remained seated,
his head still in his hands.
The sobbing grew louder.
"What's your name." she asked, trying to sound
matter‑of‑fact? As a pre‑school teacher,
she had dealt with upset children constantly. But this was different. This had
a terrifying seriousness about it. And
this was not a pre‑school child.
There was silence.
Neither of them spoke. And
then...
"D..Danny." The name came out between sobs.
"Danny," she said. "Would you come into the house for a cup
of coffee? It is rather cold in this
garage, and I think we should talk."
He had obviously not been expecting this and it took him
completely by surprise.
He took his hands away from his tear‑stained face and
stared at her with large, grey, troubled eyes.
"Come," she said, walking towards the doors.
He stood up to follow her. "Yes," she thought. "Definitely not more than fourteen. But why the hangman's noose? Why would he want to kill himself?"
He brushed his stone‑washed jeans and followed her,
strangely trusting.
She sat him down and prepared to make some coffee. He
looks hungry, she thought, and she took out some scones from the freezer, put them in the microwave oven for a minute
or two and put butter on them. They were
eaten within seconds and Danny became more trusting.
"What happened?" she asked, gently.
"I...I..." he began.
At that moment a key turned in the lock and the tall,
sandy‑haired figure of Dr Robert Goodman walked in, an anxious look in his hazel‑green
eyes. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw his wife talking to Danny.
"That hangman's noose, in the garage.
Did you put it up? What
happened?"
Danny put his head in his hands.
"Danny," said Marion gently. "This is my husband, Robert. He is a doctor."
"A.... a doctor..." stammered Danny, looking
up.
"I am a doctor," Robert said. "Did you use that rope at all?"
"How could he have?" said Marion, interrupting. "If he did, he would have
been....." She stopped, the full horror of what she would have seen
suddenly dawning on her.
"Yes, but people don't always get it right the
first time, thank goodness," said Robert, and with that he lifted up the
boy's chin, pulled open his T‑shirt and felt gently around his neck. "It
is very tender, isn't it?" he said.
"Yes," said Danny quietly. "It is very sore. It didn't work. I tied
it wrong or something and I hit the ground before I.... But it would have worked this time. It will work now I know how to do it."
"Danny, if we have anything to do with it, you will
never do it. Not tonight, or any
night. We are going to take you
home. Where do you live?"
The boy suddenly stiffened. "Will you tell my parents?" he
asked.
"I will have to say something," said Dr
Goodman.
"Tell me where you live. Who lives there?" asked Marion.
"My mother," said Danny, "and my uncle or
stepfather, Uncle Lionel. No one else.
They won't really notice I have gone."
"Can we take you back?" asked Robert.
The boy was hesitant, very hesitant.
"You can come back and see us," said Marion
suddenly, feeling she had made a connection with the child even in these few
moments, which perhaps had become important to him.
For the first time he smiled. "Okay, let's go," he said.
Before they got into the car, Dr Goodman pulled over a
stool and untied the noose. He
shuddered. It would have worked this
time, and then?
Why our
garage? he thought. Why OUR garage? I suppose it had been open and therefore in
easy access.
DANNY DIDN’T DO IT.
218 pages
ISBN-13:
978-1475061871 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1475061870
BISAC: Fiction / Psychological
ISBN-10: 1475061870
BISAC: Fiction / Psychological
This is the story of a young boy called `Danny' who tries to hang
himself in the garage of Dr. Robert Goodman.
He becomes friendly with the family and things seem to be going well until a policeman arrives at the doctor's door, saying that an elderly lady and her dog have been murdered and Danny is the prime suspect.
Written by a Clinical Psychologist, it becomes a riveting very human story of warmth, drama and mystery.
He becomes friendly with the family and things seem to be going well until a policeman arrives at the doctor's door, saying that an elderly lady and her dog have been murdered and Danny is the prime suspect.
Written by a Clinical Psychologist, it becomes a riveting very human story of warmth, drama and mystery.
CreateSpace eStore:
https://www.createspace.com/3829064
Amazon.com
Kalahari.com
THE TENSION INCREASES…….
He slowed a little and moved over so that they could overtake him and continue on their way, but they remained behind him. He saw that the cyclists were all dressed in black, with completely black helmets .
He altered speed, noting somewhat uncomfortably that the motor cyclists altered speed with him.
AND SO IT CONTINUES…..
There was a fire spreading its red tentacles of destruction
through a forest, at times blazing into a massive copper‑colored wall. Robert
was trying to walk through it, trying to rescue a child who had run through the
forest minutes before. The heat was
intolerable, but the anxiety about the child was stronger.
He started to walk through the fire, surprised that it
wasn't burning him up.
All he could feel was the terror of the situation, the
fierce heat and the rising panic about the child.
He stumbled on and on, at times being blocked by the
copper sheets in front of him. He
learned to go through there, to go on an on after the child.
And then he was
suddenly on the other side of the forest.
There was a crowd of people around someone or
something.
They were all shaking their heads and looking very
solemn, saying, "too late; too late."
He ran up to them, shouting, "It's not too late, it's not too
late!"
...........................
He felt Marion
shaking him gently. "Wake up, Robert, wake up. What have you been dreaming about? What is not too late?"
"I don't know," said Robert. "I just don't know, but I think it is to
do with Danny. I just have a feeling ‑ a
bad feeling."
He looked at his watch. It was five a.m. He dressed quickly, drank the cup of coffee
that Marion put
down in front of him in ten seconds flat, ate the piece of cake in three bites
and was off down the road.
"A dream?" Marion thought. But Robert was a person who often followed
his `hunches' and in doing this, he had in actual fact, saved several lives.
Robert, meanwhile, was driving swiftly to the
hospital. He felt a little strange going
there after the ward round, especially at six‑thirty in the morning.
If nothing was wrong he could just say that he had an
extremely busy day and had to begin early. But he was sure there was something
wrong. He felt it in every bone of his body.
As he entered Danny's section of the hospital he found
that there were many members of staff in the room with Danny and his heart
sank.
