‘Your strength,’ continued Sophia, ‘no matter how misguided, no matter how misplaced – however you describe it – was the act of someone who with absolute and unconditional love for another. And, I know, it took unimaginable courage.’

 

He still had his back to her. ‘She was in pain, too much for her to bear. Too much for me to see.’

 

‘And she was so ill, no one asked any questions, did they?’

 

Mortimer turned and faced Sophia; his grey face expressionless. ‘Why are you being so cruel? You

are putting me through hell, asking about the two people I miss most in my life. Are you trying to destroy me?’ He moved towards her. ‘You cannot make me feel any worse about what I’ve done and not done in my life. I tried, for the first 20 years I was on this earth to please everyone.

 

Absolutely everyone. It didn’t work. I got frustrated and angry and felt let down. So, I drank, so what? And I drank some more. So what? And I became the village bum, the local idiot, the pub drunk.’ His face was close to hers, his eyes in line with hers. And he screamed: ‘So, what!’

 

Sophia said nothing. She just looked at him.

 

‘Now, go, get out. Leave me be. I don’t know who you are or where you came from, but I was doing OK. I don’t need to shave and look younger, and not drink and think smarter. I don’t need all that to get me through the day. Just go. Please just go...’ His voice tailed off.

 

Sophia cupped his face in her hands. She looked deep into his eyes and said softly: ‘I can’t.’ She shook her head gently. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t go, I can’t leave you. We’re not done yet.’

 

He took a step back, pulling away from her touch. ‘What? What do you mean, we’re not done yet.’ He raised one arm above his head, screaming at her as he shook his fist in frustration and lowered it again. His voice dropped. ‘Don’t get me riled. Don’t do it.’

 

Without saying a word, Sophia reached out to hold the clenched fist and then put her other hand on his cheek again. ‘Please, please, hear me out.’ She spoke softly and Mortimer began to calm down.

 

She turned and led him back to the living room where he slumped into a chair. ‘I’m not here to judge you.’ She stood in front of him. ‘I haven’t barged into your life just so I can

criticise, humiliate, or condemn you. In truth I have the greatest admiration for the courage you showed. But the law says otherwise. The law of the land is quite clear and for that reason you had to disappear, change your name, and create a new life. But your new personality, the new you – that’s way beyond what was your intention.’

 

He looked at her. ‘Wasn’t it?’ she asked quietly. ‘It was something you became because’, she paused to gather her thoughts, ‘from that moment on, that fatal moment when you took a life changing decision – for your mother and for you – it was the end of normal, wasn’t it?

 

‘And then, all those years later, when you lost the second love of your life, you took the blame again – but this time you had nothing to blame yourself for - nothing, nothing, nothing.’

Sophia sat down in the chair beside him. ‘You seem to think that just being there when she died  makes you guilty of something only you can see.’

 

Mort shook his head slowly.  ‘That’s not true.’

 

Sophia shook her head. ‘My dear Mort, you have so many defence mechanisms it’s hard to see where you really exist. You’ve hidden behind alcohol, playing the fool, and loneliness. I’m not qualified to even suggest what might need fixing.’ She reached out for his hand. ‘But I do know

that there is, somewhere amidst it all, a very wonderful person.’

 

Mort was never sure why he asked his next question. ‘What happened to the pig? Why did you

say I was acting like a pig in the pub.’

 

She smiled. ‘It’s gone. Exorcised. Not needed any more.’

‘Why can’t I remember?’

‘You don’t need to. It’s dealt with. Gone.’

 

‘I know it wasn’t my imagination. People said things, to each other and to me. I know they’ve seen me acting strange, talking to myself, and shouting at the moon. I know it wasn’t my imagination. I do those things. It’s as though I disappear into another world. I’ve tried to read up on it, what’s wrong with me. I am in another place. I know that’s true. It is, isn’t it?’

 

‘Something like that…’

‘Like psychosis: strange behaviour, hallucinations, that sort of thing.’

 

Sopha nodded her head.

‘But I could get better.’

‘You could… in fact, you are doing.’

‘I’m getting better. Already? How come it’s that easy?’

​

She let out a short laugh. ‘You always asked so many questions. From the moment you could speak.’

 

His sadness, his helpless expression, his pain; she could see it all in his face. ‘I didn’t say it was easy. I just said it was happening.’

 

He didn’t question how she knew. ‘It’s like I had another me, here inside.’ He gently tapped his chest and especially in here,’ he said pointing at his head. ‘Until that moment I saw you,’ he murmured. ‘Then it started to get better, didn’t it?’

 

They sat in silence for a while. Then Mort said: ‘I needed medication after mother. Things got worse and I needed more. But then I stopped taking it when I came here.’ He was very matter of fact, as though he’d taken charge of the consequences years before.

 

She looked at him, frowned and then turned towards the fire. ‘But you knew that, didn’t you?’ He looked at the back of his hands. ‘In fact, you know everything, don’t you.’

 

He glanced at her, as she continued to stare at the fire. There was a silence between them for fully five minutes.

 

Mort’s mind was a jumble of snapshots, all quick glimpses of his life. With his parents on the beach, in the garden, at school, with friends, at college, and at parties. He wondered where it was all coming from. He hadn’t seen the pictures for many years. Then he

said: ‘Tell me, Sophia, how old are you?’

 

She smiled at him. ‘More questions.’

​

‘Yep.’

Sophia looked across and then back at the fire. ‘I’m not sure.’ She shuffled a little in the chair. ‘But I’m old enough to be wise enough to know that you can have your life back. You need to accept that you are not to blame for Josie’s death and face the truth about your mother.’

 

‘Even if I can’t really remember about Josie’s death. That I can’t remember anything of that day. I just made up what I thought happened, but I can’t be sure.’

​

‘You’re going to have to trust me. Why did you ask me how old I am?’

 

He shrugged. ‘Probably because I have this theory. It’s crackpot but the only explanation I can come up with now.’

‘And what’s that?’

 

‘You’d laugh. I’ll keep it to myself for now.’ He smiled at her. ‘Perhaps later. Perhaps I’ll discuss it

later.’ He stood up and stretched. ‘What shall we do now?’

 

‘Do?’ she asked.

‘Yes, do. What shall we do.’ His mood lightened.

She looked up at him. ‘What would you like to do?’

He pulled a face. ‘I think that’s off limits.’

‘Oh, that off limits. I see now.’ She shook her head and giggled.

 

‘I won’t get anything that’s off limits for a while after you’ve gone.’

‘Who said I’m going anywhere.’

‘So, you’ll go with me?’

 

She nodded. She knew where he was going, she knew exactly what he was going to do. She knew he felt better for the decision.

​

'Will you always be off limits?’ Mort wore an impish, cheeky grin on the face that had grown younger.

 

Sophia wasn’t sure and said as much. ‘I’m not saying I will and I’m not saying I won’t. And why this

sudden injection of light-hearted banter into an otherwise exceedingly serious discussion?’

 

‘I’ve had good thoughts. I’ve remembered things about my childhood, my family; things happier

than I’ve known for a long while. It’s good, isn’t it? That we have all these good things to remember.’

 

‘I’m pleased,’ said Sophia, ‘that’s a start, isn’t it?’

He nodded. ‘And shaving years off my face? What was that about?’

 

She shrugged. ‘It was just the demons being driven out. Stress, serious stress like yours, takes its toll in all sorts of ways.’

‘Demons on their way, eh?’

‘Yep.’

‘The demons of guilt.’

 

She didn’t make any further comment about demons. ‘I think it’s thawing now,’ she continued, ‘so the roads should be a little easier tomorrow. We’ll go then, shall we?’

‘OK. But how will we get there?’

‘Don’t worry. A bus will come for us.

‘There are no buses – haven’t been for years.’

‘One will come,’ was all she said. Mort didn’t bother to argue.

​

That night he lay next to Sophia in bed. She held him close to her and he slept deeply and peacefully. In Mort’s dream they made love. In Mort’s dream he was looking up at her as she looked down on him, her red hair trailing behind her, a wisp of ethereal light rimming her body.

 

She seemed to float rather than move above him. Mort’s joy was rapturous.

 

The following morning, Mort woke to find himself alone. He looked at his watch. It was just before eight, but it was still gloomy. He could hear Sophia in the bathroom. He lay thinking about the dream – indeed he wondered if it was a dream. He swung his legs out of bed. He was naked. Was it a dream? Was it one of his episodes? Was it for real?

 

He pulled back the curtains. His thoughts moved to the day ahead. It was, he knew, for the best but he was unsure about the consequences. How will people react, how will they judge him?

 

Sophia talked with him late into the evening, repeatedly reassuring him that he was doing the right thing. She told him she’d stand by his side throughout but, nevertheless, Mort wasn’t convinced all would be well. He’d known for years that he suffered with episodes he couldn’t explain. He knew he was the Jekyll and Hyde of Upper Winden.

 

The door opened and Sophia entered the bedroom. She was wearing a deep, moonlight blue

dress. Her red hair was gathered in a velvet bow at the back of her head. ‘Good morning,’ she said

brightly. ‘How are you feeling?’

 

Mort stared for a moment, taking in her beauty and serenity. He was surprisingly calm, even though he was naked in front of her. ‘I’m OK,’ he replied. Calm he may be, but he wasn’t going to mention his ‘dream’ experience – he was sure of that.

 

‘I’ve run a bath for you, and you have clean clothes.’

‘Thank you.’

‘But, my friend,’ she playfully poked his chest, ‘you can shave yourself this morning.’

 

They walked hand in hand along the village’s main street to the memorial cross halfway along the main street. Lighter skies and a bright, emerging sun combined for a slow thaw, meaning life was easier for the people of Upper Winden. A handful of them were out and about, wrapped in thick coats, scarves and hats. Mort wore a coat and scarf. Sophia wore only a dress. The villagers looked at the couple, especially curious about Mort’s beautiful companion. Those who passed close enough could see the new Mort. They could see it in his face. They went home to tell their

families and their families told their friends, and the word soon spread.

 

When Sophia and Mort reached the memorial, they stopped and standing side by side, faced the

road. Mort looked at Sophia. Her face was radiant with light and slightly turned skywards. Her eyes were closed. He knew not to speak. Sophia opened her eyes again and looked down the street. Mort followed her gaze. Sure enough, a small bus was approaching. 

 

He held her hand slightly tighter. ‘Will I be coming back?’

She didn’t hesitate. ‘Yes, we’ll come back.’

‘Good,’ he said quietly. ‘I have to make sure the demons have gone.’

 

The bus stopped beside them. The door opened and they stepped inside. He said ‘Morning’ to the driver, an elderly man with a young-looking face. The driver smiled back at him. ‘Hello Mort. Hello Sophia.’

 

‘Good morning.’ said Sophia. Mort, his mouth gaping slightly, was directed to a seat by Sophia.

 

Despite the descent to Lower Winden on the infamous bumpy, neglected road that connects the

two villages, and the winding route on narrow lanes to the town, the ride was surprisingly smooth. To Mort, who hadn’t been out of Upper Winden for many, many years, it seemed they were gliding along. He looked keenly at the passing countryside, the villages they went through and, eventually, the town that was their destination.

 

They pulled up outside a grey, indistinct post war building. Its shape and appearance were neither attractive nor imposing.

 

As they stepped from the bus, Sophia turned and looked back at the driver. ‘Thank you, Matthew.’

 

The driver smiled broadly. Mort smiled back at him. As they walked up the steps to the front door,

Mort cast a glance back over his shoulder. There was no sign of the bus.

 

Inside, Mort approached the counter. A police officer appeared to be making notes; she didn’t look up.

 

Mort stood motionless facing her, his fingers gripping the counter edge. Sophia stepped up to stand next to him. She looked at the woman and cleared her throat. It was enough to get the police officer’s attention. She looked up. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Can I help you?’

 

Sophia thought she looked very reluctant to help anyone. It was Mort’s turn to clear his throat slightly.

‘My name,’ he began, ‘is Mortimer…’ He tailed off. ‘My name,’ he started again, ‘is Kenneth.’ He hesitated a moment. ‘Kenneth Relish.’ He looked at Sophia and then back at the officer.

 

He looked down at his hands, still tightly gripping the counter. ‘I’m here to make a confession.’

The officer looked at him and then quickly at Sophia. She raised an eyebrow and then let her gaze

fall back on Mort.

‘What do you want to confess?’

‘I killed someone.’

 

Now the officer had his full attention. She spoke quickly. ‘Can you tell me a little more and then I’ll ask a senior colleague to come through.’

 

‘I killed my mother.’ Mort looked directly at the police officer. ‘She was already dying, she was in great pain, but I helped her to die quicker – just as she asked.’

 

‘Just one second please.’ The officer picked up a phone, pressed a few buttons and then spoke

quietly. ‘Can you come through, please.’

 

‘I know it was wrong,’ continued Mort as she was putting down the phone, ‘and I shouldn’t have

done it. It ruined my life. I couldn’t cope with what I’d done…’

 

His sentence petered out as he felt a jab in his ribs.

 

‘Just hold on till my colleague gets here, sir.’ She held a hand up urging Mort to stop talking, but he ignored her.

 

‘And I think I may have killed another woman but I’m not sure.’ He wiped a tear away from his cheek. ‘It could have been an accident.’ Mort dared not turn and look at Sophia. He’d felt the jab in his ribs but couldn’t believe she was still there at his side. Surely, she’d leave him standing alone to face the music. ‘I wasn’t taking my tablets.’

 

He tried to focus. He’d rehearsed the dates and times on the way but now he couldn’t remember anything.

 

‘Errm, my mother, was when I was 18.’ His head dropped for a moment, and he breathed deeply. ‘The other – she was my girlfriend – when I was in my 40s.’ He trembled.

 

‘OK,’ said the officer. She made no further attempt to stop him talking. ‘So recent. Can you be more specific with dates?’

 

‘Err, yes. Sorry.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘1975 – that’s when my mother was terminally ill. That’s

when I helped her.’ The police officer stared at him. ‘And the loss of my partner would be 2003.’

The police officer’s stare intensified.

 

At that moment, a door opened, and her colleague stepped into the area behind the counter. He stood beside her, as she folded her arms. She was beginning to think she might be dealing with a time waster. ‘So, let’s be clear about this,’ she said. ‘You’re telling me that you’re now 65.’

 

Mort nodded curtly. ‘Yes, officer I am.’

She looked at her colleague. ‘Did you get that. Sergeant? He reckons he’s 65 and a double murderer.’

 

It was at that moment Mort felt a hand on his arm. He turned. Sophia was still there. ‘Slow down,’ she whispered.

 

The officer looked at Sophia. ‘And who are you, please?’ She leaned forward. ‘And can you

corroborate his story?’

 

‘Oh,’ interrupted Mort. ‘Apparently we’ve been together all my life but, unlike me, she has no idea

how old she is.’

 

‘No idea?’ The police officer looked bewildered. She glanced from Sophia to Mort. ‘Your friend

has no idea how old she is?’

 

Mort leaned forward and beckoned the officer to move closer. He spoke in a faint voice. ‘I don’t think so… In fact, I’ve come to the conclusion that…’ He rolled his eyes.

 

‘Well, I think she may be my guardian angel.’