‘I’m Eileen, fancy coming around for a chat’ she held out her hand and Rebecca took it, a smile returned to her face, ‘you get the glasses and I’ll get the wine’ she told her, and that’s what Eileen did.
Chapter 7
Tony Griffiths had finished his job for today, he had never known it so quiet and wondered how long it would be before the sheriff wanted to make some changes, he had never had it so easy, he could eat as much as he liked, though the choices weren’t always there, he always had a well-stocked fridge and larder, there was plenty of home brew which he indulged in most nights, and if it wasn’t for the woods and the three that run this community, Underwood would be a fantastic place to live, he always said that, and he knew, he was the only one who did having lived here before and after the change.
He pushed the Avensis into position and put a “for sale” sign on it, he laughed to himself as he always did, it was his own private joke, he had done it many times before but still laughed, it was his own kind of reality check, he looked around his yard, the car lot had over a 100 cars for sale, the Avensis the newest and by far the most modern, Tony thought that most of them should be in a museum, only Underwood didn’t have a museum, Underwood didn’t have much of anything, it was a fairly nice day, a few grey clouds in the sky, but they didn’t look full of rain and the slight breeze was warm and comforting, he had become quite settled over the years, the three people in charge never really bothered him as long as he was there to repair whatever it was needed repairing, he had no family now, his wife dying 5 years ago, and as he stood and looked around his car lot, he thought about Alice, as he very often did, it was the cancer that took her according to the doctor, her last few months riddled with pain as she was doped up with cannabis, and the one day he walked in to see her on her death bed, for the first time her eyes didn’t look at him, they were just staring into space as she lay on the bed, her body arched in pain, and the silent scream of agony on her face made him take the pillow and press it over her head until she could feel the pain no more, and he will never forget holding her hand after her last breath, tears streaming down his face, not so much for the death of his wife that he had loved ever since he was a teen, the tears flowed because he wished he had the courage to do it earlier and end her suffering.
He blamed himself for her death, the cancer may not have taken her away if it had not been for Underwood, the day Underwood changed, Tony was still convinced that the close by steelworks had somehow blown up and caused this holocaust, it created Underwood and the evil that lie within it, he wondered how many died from the explosion, he himself had been a fitter in those works, repairing the broken down kit, they had been good years, he guessed those that died were the lucky ones, he was sure that the Llanwern steelworks was gone now, along with the rest of the world, but how could that be, where did the new family come from, there was never no smoke from the furnaces or the ovens that he remembered so well, sometimes the fields and trees a yellow colour from what the works threw out, no there was no smoke or steam, no noise as the blast furnaces slipped, he looked up into the sky, clouds was all he could see, no trails from planes, he couldn’t remember the last time he saw a plane fly over Underwood, there had not been one since the explosion or whatever it was changed the world, he was sure of that, but Underwood had changed now, the old army huts that once was a 2nd world war prison camp was still standing, but not a prison any more, Underwood had become the new prison.
He thought about when they made him burn her body like a guy Fawkes on bonfire night, he swore his revenge at that time, his body and mind enveloped with age and anger, everyday consisted of planning on how he could take his revenge, but over the years the time had taken that away from him, the chance never came, and the longer it never came, the less important it seemed, now he stood looking at the skies hating himself for letting those thoughts diminish, but something had changed this week, and he guessed Peter Ford might have something to do with that, Tony Griffiths was thinking he might get his revenge after all, this time it wouldn’t be full of rage, anger and bitterness, this time it would be oh so sweet.
He locked the gate behind him as he walked out of the car lot, not that anyone was going to break in, he just wanted to try and live life as naturally as he could, no one could pinch the cars, not one single car had ever been sold from his car lot.
Underwood had grown over the years, once an estate now a town as they had built closer and closer to the trees, his car lot used to be by monks ditch, a brook that run through the town, now since the storm it lay besides bluebell wood.
He had no idea where it would lie next, nor did he really care, because all he really wanted to do was raise the place to the ground.
He fancied a draught beer, so that’s where he made his way to, the only bar in town, the finest homebrew money, or in his case vouchers could buy, the Underwood Social.
He took the long way and walked alongside Monks Ditch, wondering what history it had behind it, he could see the old army huts in the distance, and not for the first time he wondered why they were still standing, and when the devil took Underwood into its own grasp, why did he not leave the huts behind, he remembered playing there as a child, making dens, chasing the girls, he allowed himself a smile from the fond memories, he wondered if the answer lied within the huts, he doubted it, they were ruins of an old prison of war camp, probably held a lot of secrets, but no Devil, the largest hut had been rebuilt and converted, now its where the babies were born,
‘The Devil’s children’
‘What can I get you’ asked Trish Young, beer or beer’ she laughed as she pumped the homebrew into a glass, Tony wondered how many times she had asked the same question, one day he would trick her and ask for wine, but he hated the stuff, Tony took a long sip, it tasted good, better than his stuff at home, even though it was the same homebrew, it was always better when pumped and frothed from the excellent bar that Craig kept, Craig was playing pool on the worn out pool table with a man in his seventies that could barely manage to walk around the table, by the look at him Tony guessed that there would soon be another Sunday bonfire, ‘at least this one may die through old age’ he thought to himself, sat in the corner huddled close together was the towns two wino’s, two 60yrs plus woman, drinking homemade wine, Sue Bradshaw and June Murphy, Underwood’s oldest female residents, one of only a small number of original residents left, who still bore the mental scars of what happened those many years ago, the fight all gone from them, and now they buried their nightmares in the free wine that Craig Jones bestowed upon them, trying to forget, but never able to forgive, waiting for time to end, so the memories will be gone forever, he wondered what story’s they could tell if they were ever given a chance, he stood and looked at them for a little while, through all the years he had known them in the new Underwood, they had never changed, two of Underwood’s oldest residents, and probably the bravest.
Tony waived to the two wino’s in the corner, but they didn’t acknowledge, not seeing him through the blurred vision the wine had given them, he recalled them being young pretty girls that he looked up to in the old Underwood, and wondered how long it would be before all the original residents were gone and the only ones left were those born here or brought by the storms, but most of those from the storms had perished as they refused to accept their new homes, how much longer could this land survive, what was its life span. They were questions he had pondered for years, he didn’t think Underwood could go on forever, it was created in a flash so it could just as easily end in a flash, he pondered this over his pint of homebrew, he had a strange feeling that the end was near, and he would thrive on it.