Awakening
AWAKENING – DAVID MUNRO
© Copyright of David Munro, publishing rights KGHH Publishing 2018
David Munro has asserted his rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or other-wise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance of the fictional characters to real persons is purely coincidental and non-intentional.
ISBN-13: 978-1983823183
ISBN-10: 198382318X
Cover designed and the copyright of Graeme Parker for KGHH Design 2018
Published in 2018 by KGHH Publishing.
AWAKENING
By David Munro
Contents
CHAPTER 1 - JUNE 1967
CHAPTER 2 - LOST IN TIME
CHAPTER 3 – THE ENIGMATIC BOY
CHAPTER 4 - CAPTIVATED
CHAPTER 5 - THE APPROACHING STORM
CHAPTER 6 - A FUTURE RETURN
CHAPTER 7 - A LOST LOVE
CHAPTER 8 - INTERVENTION
CHAPTER 9 - AWAKENING
CHAPTER 10 - IN SEARCH OF APRIL
CHAPTER 11 - INDEPENDENT LADY
CHAPTER 12 - SCANDAL
CHAPTER 13 - A NEW DAWN
CHAPTER 14 - REUNITED
CHAPTER 15 - RE-ENACTMENT
CHAPTER 16 - JOURNEY’S END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER 1 - JUNE 1967
On a warm sunny Saturday morning, Charlie Carsell-Brown and his eight-year-old son, James, sat outside their home in the family car. Whilst Charlie waited for his wife, Debbie, he tapped a forefinger on the steering wheel. James, in the rear passenger seat, fidgeted with a chrome window handle. As he glanced up, Charlie observed Debbie lock the door and then walk towards the car. He leaned sideways, and pushed down the front passenger door handle. Debbie stepped inside, and closed the door.
“At last!” Charlie sighed. “We want to get there today.”
“You’re too impatient.” Debbie smiled. “Besides, I want to look my best for your aunt.”
“Is it far to her house, Mum?” asked James.
“We’ll arrive in Ardrishaig around lunchtime.” Charlie turned the Ford Corsair’s ignition key.
“Hopefully, just before.”
As Charlie glanced at his wife, she wound down the window handle, and the car moved off. Debbie observed, “It’s plush this car isn’t it? Much better than the Anglia.”
“It’s a reliable car.” Charlie tapped the dashboard. “No more breakdowns, I hope’.
“Stop at the newsagent, I’ll buy comics for James.” Debbie looked back. “What would you like?”
“The Hotspur, and Victor, please, Mum. Oh, and the Valiant.”
Debbie smiled. “Anything else?”
“A packet of Mintollas.”
The car slowed down, and stopped outside the newsagent, where a display of assorted sweets and chocolate bars could be seen. James put his nose against the car window.
“No time for a chat.” Charlie grinned.
“I won’t be long.” Debbie opened the door, and stepped out.
“Dad, why did you buy another car? I liked the Anglia.’
“This is faster.” Charlie looked back at James. “It’ll take us to Ardrishaig in less time than what the Anglia would have.”
Debbie returned with a brown carrier bag, and as she closed the door, Charlie raised his dark eyebrows: “That was quick.”
“I’ll be longer next time.”
Charlie laughed.
Debbie gave James his comics and sweets, then took out two magazines, plus a newspaper. Folding the empty bag, she laid it at her feet. James put two comics aside, and started to read his favourite.
“Charlie, what route have you decided on?”
“Head for Glasgow, then Crianlarich, and onto Inveraray. Ardrishaig is only a short distance from Inveraray. The journey should take us about three and a half hours.”
James looked at his dad. “That’s a long time.”
Charlie opened the glove compartment. “Where’s the road map?”
James put down his comic, and picked up a yellow booklet off the black floor mat.
“Here it is, Dad.”
“Let me have a look at it.”
James handed the map to his dad who opened it at a particular page. “That appears the best route.” Charlie glanced at Debbie. “I’ll leave the map on the dashboard, just in case we get lost.”
“Lost?” Debbie raised her thin blonde eyebrows.
After leaving the newsagent, a once-popular location came into view, prompting Debbie to glance sideways. “James, there’s the old Granton railway station.”
“Where?” He lifted his head, looking around.
Debbie pointed. “Back there, we’ve just passed it.”
“It shouldn’t have been closed, especially, with more car users.” Charlie glanced at Debbie. “A local train service would be an ideal alternative.” He paused. “Dr Beeching has a lot to answer for.”
“Perhaps the trams should also have been retained.”
“You never know what the future holds, trams may become popular again.”
Debbie smiled. “Like men’s double-breasted jackets, and wide ties?”
“Don’t exaggerate, they won’t return.”
“As with the trams, Charlie.”
“Dad, could we have taken the train today?”
“There are no trains to Ardrishaig, James.”
When stopping at the traffic lights on congested Queensferry Road, Charlie looked at Debbie.
“Which magazines did you buy?”
“Vogue and Rolling Stone.”
“Let’s have some music.” Charlie leaned forward, and turned the left-hand knob.
“Why did a radio not come with the car?”
As Charlie shrugged his shoulders, the lights changed, and he drove off. “It would have saved me the trouble.”
“Perhaps, in the future, all new cars will be fitted with a radio.” Debbie licked her forefinger, and turned a page.
“Why did you buy a newspaper, there’s not much in a Saturday edition?”
“The ‘Express’ has a fashion supplement.”
James looked up. “Dad, The Saint is on tonight.”
Charlie glanced at James’s reflection in the front mirror.
“Will we be home in time to watch it?”
“Maybe, what’s on TV tonight, Debbie?”
“Hold on.” She put down her magazine, and picked up the newspaper. “The Saint is on at seven o’clock, followed by The Fugitive at eight. On BBC 2, it’s a repeat of The Forsyte Saga.”
“You may miss it, James.”
James sighed.
Picking up her magazine, Debbie stared at the radio. “What station is that?”
“One of the pirate stations, Radio Caroline. The reception isn’t good, but at least it’s pop music.”
“Will I hear The Monkees, Dad?”
“There’s a good chance.”
“That’s the first time I have heard this song.” Debbie turned up the volume.
“The show is a selection of new releases.” Charlie glanced at the radio. “That’s Procol Harem.”
“Strange name.” Debbie turned another page.
“Anything of interest?”
“They highlight the forthcoming marriage of Elvis and Priscilla, and the Beatles new album, which is due for release early next month.” Debbie looked at Charlie. “Can we stop at Crianlarich? I wouldn’t mind a cup o
f tea.”
“And a coke.”
Debbie turned around. “Thirsty?”
James nodded.
Debbie looked at Charlie. “What time should we be at your aunt’s?”
“When I spoke to her yesterday, she mentioned between twelve and one o’clock.”
Debbie glanced at her trim silver watch. “Plenty of time.”
“We must go to see the new Bond film, it’s on at the Playhouse next month.” Charlie glanced at the front mirror. “What say you, James?”
“Yes, Dad!”
“How about In the Heat of the Night? I’ve read Rod Steiger is excellent.”
“He gave a good performance in Doctor Zhivago, although, Omar Sharif received the plaudits.”
James looked up. “What do plaudits mean, Dad?”
“More money.”
Debbie read her magazine. “There’s an article here about a Dustin Hoffman. It’s a film
The Graduate.” Debbie moved closer to Charlie, and whispered, “the story is about a young man, and his relationship with an older woman.”
Charlie raised his dark eyebrows.
For the next hour and a half, Debbie read her magazines, James, his comics, and Charlie listened to music. Then, a town came into view, and Charlie spotted a signpost. “Here we are, Crianlarich.”
“That looks like a nice place, Charlie.” Debbie pointed.
“It resembles a log cabin.”
“It’s a tearoom, let’s stop.”
Thirty minutes later, Charlie, Debbie and James left the tearoom, and got into the car. As Charlie drove off, Debbie looked back. “A quaint tearoom.”
“And clean,” added Charlie, “an ideal place to stop.”
“Did you like it, James?”
“Yes, the cakes tasted nice.”
Debbie tapped her watch. “What time is it, Charlie?”
Charlie glanced at his. “Ten past eleven. We should arrive at Ardrishaig around one o’clock.”
“At this speed, we may arrive sooner.”
Charlie grinned.
“Since your uncle passed away, how does Olivia spend her time?”
“Running a charity shop in the village. Also, the grounds within the property require constant attention.”
“It must be a handful!”
“A gardener takes care of the heavy stuff, and my aunt potters about doing small bits.”
“What does ‘potter about’ mean, Dad?”
“No stress, James.”
Debbie smiled.
“What does stress mean, Mum?”
“I’ll explain later.” Debbie wound down the window handle further. “Ah, that’s better.”
James touched the window handle beside him.
Charlie glanced in the front mirror. “Leave the window closed, James.”
James picked up a comic.
“At your uncle’s funeral, Olivia looked well, considering.”
“She’s a strong individual. As a young child, she lost her father in the First World War.” Charlie glanced at Debbie. “Never knew him, perhaps that made her independent.”
“At the funeral, your mother and father called her Ann.”
“Ann is her middle name.”
Debbie looked behind.
“Almost finished my comics.” James turned a page.
“It won’t be long until we reach Ardrishaig.”
“Given the length of journey, James hasn’t been restless. Whenever I was in my parent’s car, I couldn’t sit still.”
“No comment.”
Following a trouble-free drive through sunny picturesque Argyll, James started to rub his stomach. “Mum, I don’t feel well.”
Debbie looked back.
“I’ll stop at this lay-by,” suggested Charlie.
When the car came to a halt, Debbie and James got out, followed by Charlie. Whilst Debbie took James for a walk around the lay-by, Charlie stood admiring the lochside view of lush green valleys. A short time later, Debbie and James returned to the car, and the family resumed their journey
Debbie glanced back at James. “Feeling better?”
He nodded.
As Charlie wound down the driver’s window, Debbie’s magazines flew off the dashboard. “Not too far down!” She picked them up, and gazed out her window. “The view is stunning.” Debbie looked at James. “Not be long now.” He’s still as white as a sheet. She turned to Charlie. “Your aunt stays just outside Ardrishaig, doesn’t she?”
“About half a mile.”
Debbie kept a watchful eye on James, and the car sped towards the family’s destination, and then a signpost came into view.
“Here we are at last – Dochar.” Charlie sighed.
“Dad, isn’t it Ardrishaig?”
“Your great-aunt lives half a mile from Ardrishaig.”
“Does the property have a name, Charlie?”
“Docharnea.”
“There it is!” Debbie pointed.
Charlie slowed the car down, then turned into a long narrow driveway with trees on either side. Forty yards later, he stopped outside a cream villa.
“Your aunt must have a fit gardener.” Debbie looked around. “There’s Olivia, she must have heard the car.”
Charlie, Debbie and James, got out, and approached the main entrance.
“Good afternoon,” said Charlie.
“It’s lovely to see you again.” Olivia hugged her nephew. “You too, Deborah.”
“Olivia, this is James.” Debbie put her hands on his shoulders.
Olivia bent down. “Hello, young man, how are you?”
“Fine, thank you.”
“How old are you now?” Olivia smiled.
“Eight. Nine in December.”
Olivia glanced at Debbie. “Informative, as well as polite. Come inside, Pearl will soon serve us tea in the lounge.”
James looked at his mother.
Olivia led her guests into the reception area, through a hallway and then into a large bright public room. Debbie cast her gaze around the room. “It’s fabulous, especially, the cornice.” She stared upwards.
“The property is over seventy years old, however, I like to keep it in the Victorian mould. I must admit, it takes a lot of upkeep, but worth the time and expense. If you wish, Deborah, I will let you see other parts of the villa later.”
“This property is a complete contrast to our house. I adore character in a building, and tell Charlie there’s nothing like a traditional property.”
“Wait until the maintenance bills appear.”
Charlie laughed.
“It’s nice, isn’t it, Charlie?” Debbie continued to gaze.
He nodded.
“Please, have a seat.”
Debbie, Charlie and James sat on a beige coloured couch and Olivia opposite on a matching two-seater. “How are your mother and father, Charlie?”
“They’re both well. Father has started playing bowls at a local club. He’s tried to get mother interested.”
“Does she still paint?”
“Last year she painted a scene of the Fife coastline, and it now hangs above our living room fireplace.”
“Your mother is a talented lady. I advised her many years ago to rent a studio and sell paintings. She can have my coach house free of charge.”
“Too far from Newhaven.”
Debbie smiled.
James fiddled with his sandal strap.
“True, I can’t envisage your parents moving, they have lived in that house all of their married life.”
“They love that house, and it’s close to father’s office.”
“Do you use the coach house?” asked Debbie.
“No, Deborah, it has lain dormant for many years. Charlie’s grandfather used it to store old furniture. When William and I moved here, the items were sent to a charity shop, coincidently, the one I now run.”
Charlie gave a wide grin.
James whispered, “what’s a coach house, Mum?”
�
�A long time ago, large properties like this had someone who stayed in a separate house, called a coach house. People did not have cars in those days, and this person drove a coach pulled by horses.”
“How fast would it go?”
“Adequate for the Victorians, but not us,” said Charlie.
Olivia leaned towards James. “Would you like to see the coach house?”
James nodded.
Olivia looked at Debbie. “I will take James to see it, and in the meantime, have a look round Docharnea.”
“Terrific.” Debbie smiled.
Olivia took James’s hand, led him out of the rear entrance and across a grey gravel courtyard. James stared at the distinctive black and white two-storey building.
“Would you like to look around inside?”
James nodded. “Yes.”
Olivia opened the main door, which led to an upstairs floor. Taking James’s hand, they climbed a creaky wooden staircase, and entered an empty room.
“This is where hay was stored for two horses.” Olivia looked at James. “The old stable is underneath this room.”
“Can I see it?”
“When we go back downstairs.”
James was taken into another room, which had a fireplace, two dark wooden chairs, and a wall mirror. It also contained a musty smell.
“This is where the coachman lived, James.”
At that moment, a woman’s voice could be heard from the downstairs entrance. Olivia went to the top of the stairs. “Yes, Pearl?” shouted Olivia.
“An urgent call,” Pearl shouted, “it’s about your trip to London.”
Olivia looked at James. “I will be back in a jiffy, stay here.”
James nodded.
After his great-aunt walked downstairs, James cast his gaze around the room. A faint buzzing came from the window. He strolled across dusty wooden floorboards, and spotted a wasp caught in a spider’s web. He had learned a painful lesson as a young child, not to go near a wasp. As he crossed over to a white painted cupboard, out of curiosity, James opened it. Being empty, he closed the door. Near the fireplace, was a doorway. James entered the compact area, and noticed an old washing ringer, placed upright on a wooden bench. Uninterested, he returned to the main room and stared at a mirror hanging on a white emulsion wall. Dragging a chair over, he climbed up, and stared into the oval glass.