BlindFire (14 page)

  Danny
came up gasping for air.  The  freezing  cold  sea  had  physically knocked  every  ounce  of  strength  and  oxygen  out  of  his  defenseless body. The  boat  had  gone  and  with  it  his  only  chance  for  survival. He  frantically  looked  around  for  something  to  hold  on  to,  but  there was  nothing.

  The waves swelled in size. A crazed chaotic monster intent on his destruction. He knew he would be dead soon. Acceptance dawned; as yet another wave crashed over his body and smashed him against the rocks.

***

The  old  man  carefully  picked  his  way  along  the  craggy  rock  strewn  path.  The  same  route,  he  had  walked  his  dog  for  the  past eight  years.

  "Come on Lady
."  He  shouted,  tired 
of  his  dogs  incessant  need  to sniff  around  everything  in  sight.  He  stopped  to  get  his  breath  back and  let  the  old  dog  catch  up,  a   Labrador  cross  she  was  getting  on in  her  years,  as  was  her  master.  He  waited  a  couple  of  minutes then  headed  back  down  the  cliff  path.  "Come on lass...  Where are you?" He growled, anger now taking over from concern.  "I should have   blasted well
put you
down years ago."

  He suddenly heard his dog barking somewhere on the distant beach.

  "Come here   ye' little   bastard!"  He shrieked. "What in gods name are you barking at?"

  Then  he  saw  it,  a  body  laying  half  hidden  amongst  the  rocks.  "Get out of   there lass."  He   rushed   forward   taking   little  care  as  he  
stepped from rock to rock  almost
slipping  on  the  green  slime  which  clung 
to everything
like  glue
. The body was that
of  a  man,  his  face  was  bloodied  and  bru
ised,  he  wore  a  long  coat
dripping wet  and  bloodstained  and  his  legs  disappeared  at  the  knees  under  a mixture  of  bubbly  green  slime,  sea  weed  and  salt  water.

  The old man
slowly  reached  forward  and  gently  touched  the  strangers neck  feeling  for  the  slightest  sign  of  a  pulse,  at  the  same  time  he  raised the  eyelids  and  watched  as  the  pupils  evenly  responded  to  light.

  "At  least  you  alive  son,  but  I  don't  know  for  how  long."   He  had  lived in  this  part  of  Ireland  long  enough  to  know  that  the  tide  would  soon return  for  a  second  feasting  on  its  victim.

  Gathering  his  strength,  the  old  man  pulled  the  casualty  up  into  a  sitting position  and  then  began  dragging  him  out  of  harms  reach.  It was as difficult as he thought it would be.  Sweat  flowed  freely  down  his  head  and gathered  at  his chin, before splashing onto  the  strangers  head.  Stopping  for  a rest,  he  rolled  his  head  skyward  taking  in  great  mouthfuls  of  air.

  Preparing  himself  once  again  for  the  struggle,  he  took  the  weight  of   the body  and  heaved  backwards,
but
  there  was  something  wrong  the  body  seemed to  be  jammed  between  the  rocks.  He  pulled  even  harder  this  time  with every  ounce  of  strength  but  it  was  of  no  use,  something  was  stuck.  Fighting to  half  roll  the  man  over,  he  saw  the  problem  straight  away.  A weapon of some kind
which was
attached to the mans body
by an harness
had wedged its self under a large boulder.

   A glance seaward made him panic.  The tides relentless advance continued. It  took  a  good  few  minutes  to  free  the  weapon and  by  now  the  water  was  lapping  around  the  casualties  chest.  After  what  seemed  like  an  eternity of  struggle,  he  had  his  man  half  way  up  the  cliff  above  the  tide  line.

  Leaving  him  in  the  recovery  position,  he  set  off  up  the  cliff  taking  his dog  with  him.  He  would  return  later  with  his  car  and  collect  the  stranger.

***

  She remembered the soaking rain and the terrible darkness. She  remembered  the  hand  which  had  come  out  of  that  darkness, a  wet  hand. She  had  taken  it  and  clung  tight  fearing  that  the  bad  man  may  have  caught  up  with  her. His  image  filled  her  mind  with  such  terror  nothing  else  settled  there. So she had withdrawn, taken not to thinking, not to speaking. Non exist
ence seemed the key to survival, if she didn’t exist then he wouldn’t find her

 
She  had  woken  some time  the  next  morning 
warm  and  dry, wearing  differ
ent
  clothes.

Sahra  held a  teddy  bear tight
ly
, 
one
which  the   woman  from  the  night  before  must  have  given  her. 

  Suddenly the woman came into the room. “Good morning.”  She said
in German
and smiled brightly.

   Sahra instinctively hid behind
the bear nervously shielding her
face with
a shaking
hand.

  “Can’t you speak child.”  The  cold  blue  eyes  of  the  woman  stared  icily  down  at  Sahra  then  she pursed  her  lips  as  if  waiting  for  something.

   Sahra stared
back
, this woman scared her.
“Yes.” She whispered into the fur of the bear.

   "Yes
.... 
Yes
what?"  She  snapped  then  there  was  a  pause, and  the  woman  answ
ered  her  own  question. “Mother..!
” She  leaned  down  and  snatched  the  bear  which  made  Sahra  jump  with  fright.
“You call me Mother.”

   Suddenly
the 
image  of  the  woman  Sahra
  once  called  mummy
flashed across
her  minds  eye, a  memory  of  perfumes  and  parks  of  swings  and  slides. It lasted less than a second.

  The woman hid the bear behind her back.  "Speak child. What’s your name?”

  She remained silent
and still
.

  “I said you will speak. If  you  can’t  tell  me  your  name  then  I  shall  have  to  give  you  one.”

  Silence

  “Then I shall name you
..!” She pursed her lips and thought for several seconds. “Claudia! I shall call you Claudia.
”
Said the woman and stuffed the teddy bear back in Sahra’s hand.

  That  name  struck  a  chord, a  memory  of  parks  and  slides, of  perfume; Of
…
 
Of M
ummy.

  "I want my Mummy!"  Sahra
s
creamed no longer able to contain hers
elf.  "I want to go home
!
Take me home.
"

  A  stinging  slap  across  the  face  sent  the  pitiful  child  reeling  across  the room  into  a  large
half dead
cheese  plant.  Both collapsed in a tangled mess on the floor.

  "
You are home!
" 
The woman barked.  "I found you and now you belong to me!
"

  Sahra  dared  to  gaze  up  through  her  tear  filled  eyes.  The  woman  was support
ing  herself  on the back of a settee
,   she  was  shakin
g  and  seemed  confused.  Sahra
took the opportunity to
untangle herself
from the plant, dash past the woman and run upstairs, not
stopping
until she reached
the top step
, and then
she turned, sat down and hugged the bear. “Please take me home!” She pleaded. “My Mum and Dad will be getting worried now.”

  “Oh don’t you worry about them!” She said looking up at Sahra. “I’m going to find a new family for you… One with plenty of money! Money for me…”

  As the days slowly past her by Sahra learned the hard way to keep quiet and behave herself.  She learned to call the woman ‘mother’ and to watch out for her sudden violent outbursts. Making a dash for a door that turned out to be locked had been her worst mistake, earning her a severe beating.

  Food seemed to be in short supply and Sahra was constantly thirsty. It was after two days of no food at all that Mother let Sahra out of her room.

  “Someone is coming to view you, tidy yourself up and comb your hair.” She said and handed Sahra an half rotten apple. “Try to look less hungry..!” And then looking anxiously at her watch the woman added. “I need to go out for a while... Don’t try anything! “

  "Oh please can I come
...  Please, please can I come?"  Shrieked  Sahra already  making  plans  to  run  away  as  soon  as  the 
front
door  was  open
ed
.  She would  run  to  a  police  station  and  tell  them  her  real  name  and  where  she lived,  then  she  would  be  safe.
“I won’t try to run away or anything! I’ll be good, I promise.”
                                                                                                                                     

  The woman
made Sahra wear a wooly hat and scarf that hid most of her face
and as she opened the door she gripped
her hand
tight
ly.
She seemed to know Sara’s plan
,
as if she could look deep
into her mind. The walk was on
ly to the local Post office, n
ot  very  far  at  all  really,  but  she  enjoyed  every  second  of  it.  A  crisp  winters morning,  even  though  the  sky  was  blue  there  was  a  light  covering  of  snow  on  the  ground.

  There  were  lots  of  people  waiting  for  the  shop  to  open.  The  chatter  was loud  and  Sahra  could  only  make  out  bits  and  pieces.  Soon  the  chit  chat died  down  and  to  Mothers  horror,   two  old  ladies  became  interested  in Sahra.

  "Hello."  Said the nearest of the two
and smiled
.  "What’s your name?"

  "Claudia."   She  lied,  but  it  was  better  than  getting  a  slap  later.

  The older one lent down hard on her walking frame
and frowned at her friend
.
“We haven’t seen you before have we?”

  Sahra shook her head and nervously glanced at mother.

  “She’s me granddaughter..! Just visiting for a few days.”

  "
And w
hat did Father Christmas bring you this year?"

  Sahra was speechless she h
adn’t
notice the passing of Christmas.  Mother suddenly squeezed Sara’s hand so tight, that it hurt
and she had to stop herself from crying out
.

  "He brought you a bike, didn’t he dear?"

 
Sahra glanced up at mother and understood the look in her eyes
"Ye...  yes a nice bike."

  The
doors suddenly opened and the queue lunged
forward
.  Sahra could hear the clink clink of coins on the pavement
as
someone dropped their purse.
  They were rolling everywhere, and then a
  small  piece  of  square  paper
 
landed by  her   right  foot,  she  knew  it  was  a  stamp  by  the  perforated  edges.  No  one,  not  even  Mother  saw  her 
reach down,
scoop  it  up  and plunge  it  deep  into  her  pocket.

   Soon she was being almost dragged home. Mother seemed angry for some reason and Sahra knew she had to do something or risk being locked in the stinking toilet again or even worse.

  "I'm sorry..!
Mummy, have I done something wrong?"

  Mother smiled, the word ‘Mummy’ had touched a nerve. "No Claudia
dear
." She said and slowed her pace.

  "May I draw when we get home?
I could draw you and me?
"

  "Ofcourse you can dear
?" She couldn't believe Claudia had said
the word
'home'.

  "
I used to draw all the time... B
efore
…
"

  "
Why don’t you s
how me a
t home?
"
Mother interrupted. “Perhaps I have some paper and crayons somewhere.”

  "Goody, goody!
" Sahra cried.

  "Home at last."  Mother
declared brightly
. "Now you can draw whatever you want."

  Sahra looked up at the house; it seemed different to all the others on the street, somehow darker. The garden wasn't as well kept as the others and rubbish from an overflowing dustbin lay scattered in and around the long grass. The hedges at the front hadn't been cut for a long time and were half dead anyway with large sections missing.