The Black Tower

“So, you’re good to cover New Year?” asked the boss.

“Yeah.” replied James

“And I’ll cover Christmas.”

This voice belonged to his colleague Abigail. This was the last meeting before people started leaving the city and going home for the holidays. In the wintertime, working for the Canal Society was an exercise in looking busy. There wasn’t much to do, but someone had to be around to do it. It was great for getting your Christmas shopping done. With the meeting over, they both left the office.

“Any plans for Christmas?” Abigail asked.

“I am going to see my Mum.”

“Oh”

She reached out towards his face, intending to touch his cheek, before stopping herself. It was only a few months since the break-up.

“Old habits?” he asked.

“How are you feeling about seeing your Mum?” she asked.

When they were dating it had been easier. She would not be around to act as a buffer this time. James smiled but there was no real joy in it.

“I’ll be fine” he said “Just avoid talking about politics, my Dad, or my brothers.”

The moment was disrupted when two other colleagues came out of the break room talking loudly. Seeing the perfect opportunity for escape, James stepped away and hit the controls to open the rolling shutter door on the garage. He reversed his work van out and left the shutter open for Abigail to follow. The day’s work shift ended at three, but since it was Christmas time he was on his way home by eleven. He arrived at his Mother’s home at around four in the afternoon having avoided rush hour.


“Oh, do you remember this?” she said.

James was holding a cup of weak tea and sitting on the couch by his mother as they looked through some old photo albums. He leaned in close as a pretence to taking an interest. It was another photo with the same fuzzy, overlay that seemed commonplace for his father’s skills as a photographer. Too much light making everyone’s skin too white. In the picture they were in the countryside, maybe France or England, it was hard to say exactly where. The clothing was all bold, blocks of colour that didn’t quite fit. Hand me down living for James and his older brothers.

“This was the summer we lost you, do you remember?” continued his Mother

The bottom dropped out of his stomach.

“When was that?” he asked suppressing a shiver.

“Oh, you must have been four or five. We were in the countryside spending a week in the caravan.”

James reached out and touched the edge of the photo album. He desperately wanted to turn the page and move on. Just to forget and move on. The sound of his heartbeat seemed to be getting louder and louder. His mother was speaking, but he couldn’t hear the words. She had turned to reach for her glass of wine.

‘Now would be the perfect time to flip a page’ he thought.

Her elbow was pressing down on the album causing it to fold a little. With her head turned away it was hard to hear what she was saying.

“What?” he managed

“I was saying, are you sure you don’t remember? We couldn’t find you and I was all in a tizzy.”

His wits were slowly returning to him, but his mind was racing.

“I don’t think so.” he said “Excuse me for a second.”

He rose on unsteady feet and managed to grab the door handle to prevent himself from falling. He made it to the bathroom at the end of the hall, closed the door and started taking deep slow breaths. At some point he noticed he had fallen to his knees and was clinging to the edge of the bathtub. The plastic creaked under his hands.

‘Did he remember that summer?! Did he remember?! How could he forget? That summer had been a nightmare and he was still hoping to wake up. It had been a summer holiday. The whole family sweating in a car loaded with tents and clothes and children and dogs. As kids are wont to do, he and his brothers started exploring as soon as they arrived. On the last day he had seen a tower on a hill and decided to go to it. He had woken up in the shade of some trees, unsure of what time it was he walked back to the campsite to find it busy with people and activity. When people saw him they came running over, all talking at once. The next few weeks were a blur of being made to feel either guilty or stupid or both.

He let go of the tub and leaned back against the bathroom wall. His breathing had slowed, but he could still feel the anxiety welling up in his guts.

He remembered bits and pieces that followed. They were supposed to drive home that day and instead had stuck around for four days to look for him. His father had missed work and his brothers would miss going back to school. That was his fault. Saying that you don’t remember where you were for the past four days while everyone was out at all hours looking for you doesn’t earn you a lot of sympathy. He remembered crying a lot. Everyone seemed upset with him. They had taken him to a hospital where they found bruising on his legs which brought police officers with suspicious looks asking questions.

“Who did you meet that day?”

“What did they do to you?”

“What did he look like?”

“Where did he go?”

Again he said he didn’t know.

At night he shared a hotel room with his brothers. That lead to more questions and a few more bruises. In amongst the doctors and the officers and other the concerned adults someone put him in front of hypnotherapist. After that the questions changed.

“Tell us about the tower?”

“Why did you go in the tower?”

“Why are you lying to us about the tower?”

“Are you sure it wasn’t a house or a cottage?”

He only found out later that no one could find the tower he had seen that day. Eventually, he went back to school. His brothers had done their best to make sure everyone knew that their little freak brother was crazy and on medication and had been locked up in the loony bin. High school was tough.

He pulled himself up using the bathtub and the wall. He wiped his face and then flushed the toilet for good measure. In the living room he found the photo album lying on the couch. From the kitchen he heard the click and rumble of the kettle coming to a boil. Sitting down, he picked up the album. There was only one page to go so he flipped it over. He figured it couldn’t be any worse at this point. Looking down he saw that he was wrong. On the face of it, the picture was innocuous enough. He recognised his oldest brother posing in front of the tents they had been sleeping in, stretching a manic grin across his face for all to see. In the background, on the hill, was the outline of a tall, black tower. It was new and familiar at the same time. The world swam before his eyes and he thought he might faint.

“You alright, love?” said his Mother.