Past Imperfect

TW: mentions of mental and physical abuse.

Bill sat bolt upright in the hotel bed, heart pounding to a familiar refrain. The dream had reasserted itself with a vengeance.

From the moment he’d seen the updated list of people attending the conference, one name had stood out: Dake Scratchard was the name of the boy who’d haunted Bill Brown’s life more years than he cared to remember. Dreams fuelled by past memories disturbed his nights when equal amounts of dread and fear surged through his veins, rendering him helpless.

As always, the nightmare was a variation on a theme. In it, Bill was a teenage boy running from the gang. He often came close to evading capture but at the last minute tripped over his shoelaces or some other encumbrance. Then, he found himself falling flat on his face outside the old school toilets, the inner doors of which rose up like whited sepulchres.

Up close, he could see every cell of his tormentor’s face.

“Ginger needs to be taught a lesson,” came out of that hate-filled mouth. A bully aided by his contemptible band of followers with their menacing chants of “Gin-ger, gin-ger. Gin-ger.” Even now, their words filled the corridors of his mind like a background hiss.

“Nooooo…” The sound seemed to come from somewhere outside. As if it belonged to someone else, not him.

“You’re just begging for it, Billy Ginger. If the teachers won’t correct you, we must do it for them.”

Billy knew no teacher would come – they were never there when you needed them. In any case, the gang always had some lackey watching out. Soon they’d have him crawling on his hands and knees, scooting about like an insect while they kicked him on the hard stone floor. Their mocking jeers running through him, he was nothing more than a piece of meat to be hauled about. For them, the high point was shoving his face into the toilet bowl. The stench was the least of it. Clinging for support, he tried to keep everything tight shut while they flushed. Knowing he could not hold out for long, he spluttered to be let go.

Then just as he was about to give up, a final flush signalled his release. He was pulled up squirming like a rat from a sewer and left heaving on the floor. For a few minutes he lay there curled and defenceless, all resistance gone.

Until the next time. And the time after that.

Something so primal, so feral, he could smell it now. Even after all this time, he was defined by it. As if the abuse had become part of a warped pattern of D and A, making him only half human.

But somehow, he’d known he was worth more than that. At least his dog seemed to think so. Through it all, the only thing that kept Bill going was the thought of the black Labrador faithfully waiting in the porch. Back home, Kelpie licked away the wounds and salt tears, stayed beside him till the pain subsided. Without Kelpie, he would not have survived. For the purity of a dog’s heart knows no bounds.

**

Switching on the bedside lamp, Bill waited until his breathing steadied. Coughing, he climbed into a dressing gown and stepped out onto a small balcony. In the courtyard below, the air was prescient with a damp chill. A few lone trees were scattering leaves marking the onset of winter. Inhaling a sneaky cigarette, Bill considered his options. It had all happened so long ago, yet the dream had reignited the past making him feel he could never escape its clutches.

If Bill recited the facts of his life enough times, he almost convinced himself of their worth. On paper, he’d worked hard, got married and divorced, and had a son he barely saw. He’d mostly married his wife to please his father because she came from a better background and look where that had got him! It wasn’t his ex’s fault if along the way he’d supplemented whatever was missing with a few women he was physically attracted to, but not much else. In the end, it had been like ships passing in the night.

All except for Bella. With her, he’d come close to casting a loveless marriage aside, but in the end, something had stopped him. The risk of getting it wrong had been too great.

But all that was in the past. Although Bella had recently returned to the company where they both worked, albeit in a less demanding role, he rarely saw her these days. And according to rumours, she was now with someone.

In the shower, Bill imagined washing the past down the plug hole. Soon he planned to do just that. The only fly in the ointment of course was Bella. He wasn’t sure whether she’d be attending the conference. Really, bumping into her was the least of his worries, but if he did, so be it. He hadn’t actually seen her name on the list of attendees, so it seemed unlikely. 

Overall, it would be easier if she didn’t attend because that afternoon, Bill was making his first big speech in his new role as Regional Operations Manager. As if there wasn’t enough going on without having to deal with affairs of the heart! The speech eagerly anticipated, was expected to be the highlight of the day.

**

In the hotel room, examining the set of knives his father had given him as an eighteenth birthday present, Bill was confronted by powerful emotions. Before him, were a dazzling array of sharp pieces, all with wooden handles for an extra firm grip. It was almost pleasurable selecting the one with the pointed end. He carefully placed it in a sheath and adding it to a concealed section of his briefcase.

In the mirror, he observed hair that was thinning a little at the sides. Other than that, it was still thick and brown with just a hint of chestnut. Impressive in a well-cut suit, he was tall enough to be considered distinguished; to some his features might be regarded as handsome. His eyes however were preternaturally bright.

Sighing deeply, he exited the room. Clutching his laptop and briefcase, he made his way along the plushly carpeted corridor, entered the lift, and headed the three floors down to the conference room area. Psyching himself up for whatever lay ahead, he focused on his achievements. Only by drawing on every retail milestone was he able to make sense of the wasteland that was his emotional life. His mind’s eye framed the certificates that took pride of place on his home office wall charting his journey from sales assistant to the coveted role of regional operations manager for one of the country’s most successful chain stores. Stores that sold fashionable clothes and accessories for prices most people could afford.

***

Bill’s journey into a better life had only really begun when his parents had moved from a London suburb to a city in the midlands. Then aged fifteen, he’d welcomed the move with open arms for it had given him a chance to start afresh in a place where no one knew him. Especially at school. He had loved walking unrecognised through the city’s streets and visiting its ancient cathedral.

One Saturday morning, plucking up courage, he’d walked into one of the city’s department stores and landed himself a Saturday job in the menswear department. When he returned home, his mum made him a cup of tea and Kelpie wagged a warm greeting. “You could do a lot worse. They’ve got people queuing up to get a place in that store,” his mum had commented. Then examining him more closely, she observed, “You’ve darkened your hair. Isn’t that what Elvis Presley did?”

“I expect so. I never liked my natural colour, and I want to fit in at this school.”

That was the closest he’d come to admitting the bullying at his old school. He never told anyone about the suicidal thoughts.

** *

He couldn’t miss her! Bella was a figure of light breaking the conference room formality, and wearing the most distinctive outfit. To him, she was the classiest person there, surrounded as she was by an adoring team of managers, at one of the middle tables. Distracted by her presence, he could hardly wait for a chance to speak to her.

The chance came while she was lining up to choose from a tray of canapés during the lunch break.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be here, Bella,” he said.

“I wasn’t expecting to be here, but there was a change of plan.”

“It’s so good to see you.” He found himself saying.

“Well, I missed the company and the people. I wasn’t the right fit for the new position, even if it was a promotion. It seemed fortuitous when my old vacancy came up again.”

“So, you’re didn’t have a problem with going back to your old role?”

“There’s no need to avoid using the word demotion. I won’t be offended,” she laughed. “I came to realise I didn’t need all the hassle that goes with a high-powered job. I realised I’d made a mistake, and the opportunity came to rectify it. I want a simple life, especially now I’m single. Don’t worry. It’s all worked out for the best. He wasn’t right for me either.”

Bill could hardly believe what he was hearing.

“It’s really good to see you,” he said again.

“I’m glad you think that” she said, smiling brightly.

**

Catching up with Bella had been great. So much so, watching her sleeping the next morning, Bill had almost forgotten about the “other thing.” He decided he’d know what to do when the time came.

If it came …

Bill was pouring coffee when Bella opened her eyes. They were warm like Kelpie’s had once been.

“That smells good,” she said.

“I remembered you like it strong.”

The world outside remained foggy and damp, but for the moment none of that mattered. Fully dressed, Bill joined Bella on the bed.

“What’s the matter? You look like you’ve got the world on your shoulders,” she said kindly.

“Nothing. Just the conference. A lot to think about.” But that was only partly true. If only he could tell her what was really on his mind. Part of him wondered whether meeting Bella again was purely coincidental or a sign he should let the past go once and for all. He might have said more but then the phone rang.

“Good luck with the speech. Not that you’re going to need it,” Bella said, getting up and kissing him.

 **

On the way to the conference room, Bill overheard a conversation between two hotel staff members.

“Are the cameras still out?”

“Only on the third floor. Also, the ones by the bathroom. They’re down too.”

“Okay, not good. How long before they are fixed?”

“A few hours at most. Maintenance will get it sorted. It won’t affect the general running of things.”

Bill felt almost disappointed to hear the news about the cameras. After his night with Bella, he’d been on the verge of scrapping his original “plan.” Now fate seemed to be pulling him back. Yet he still hadn’t come across his nemesis.

**

About forty minutes into the second day of conference, a man best described as nondescript entered the hall. Head down, he weaved his way to the numbered seat. Bill clocked him and his heart sank. Something of the man’s stance reminded him of Dake Scratchard grown older. But was it him? He couldn’t be sure.

Two hours into the conference, during the talk on sustainability, the man scurried towards one of the exits and all doubt vanished. Shrivelled he might be, but it was definitely Scratchard.

Galvanised into action, Bill left his seat and headed for the nearest exit. Gripping his case so tightly his fingers hurt, he followed the figure until he disappeared into the bathroom.

Unless he had to, Bill generally avoided public bathrooms, but this was going to be the exception. Adrenaline flooding through him, he quietly opened the door and stepped inside. Other than a pulsing through his ears and the sound of a dripping tap, all was quiet. Then he heard a retching coming from one of the cubicles. A minute later, the door opened and Scratchard stepped out. Engrossed in his own suffering, he ran to the nearest sink and stood there heaving.

Watching unobserved, Bill was torn between revulsion and an intense hatred. Mostly he was seized by a hatred for all he’d been put through; overcome by a rage for the way this pathetic being had ruined so much of his life. It was too late to change his mind now. The die was cast. Gripping the knife, he advanced, his anger rising to a peak. Suddenly the bathroom door sprang open, and to his astonishment Bella entered. She came and stood behind him, putting her arms round his waist. Then opening his fist, she carefully removed the knife from his hand and put it behind her back. “It’s not the answer,” she whispered, hurriedly placing it in her bag.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. The atmosphere in the room shifted. Startled out of his sickness, Bill’s childhood enemy locked eyes with his victim in the mirror. Both men were shaking, one from the effects of illness, the other from the horror of what might have been.

“What the hell?” Scratchard broke out.

Then there was a flash of recognition as the years fell back. “Surely not! I wasn’t sure if it was you in the meeting — probably because your hair is different. But it’s Ginger Bill, isn’t it? Only the last time I saw you…” The words trailed off, vanished into the unknown.

“But you never did see me,” Bill said through gritted teeth. “All you saw was a weak boy you could bully because of his hair colour. As I recall, the last time I saw you and your sick gang, you’d forced my head down the bog! Have you any idea what that does to someone?”

“Did I do that?” Dake’s face reddened. “I was a bit of a jerk in those days! If it’s any consolation, life hasn’t exactly treated me well. As you can see, I’m not a well man.”

The edges blurring, Bill felt the first stirrings of pity.

“What’s actually wrong with you, Scratchard?” Calling him by his surname felt like a minor victory; he’d never dared call him anything in school!

Dake shook his head despairingly. “If it’s not one thing, it’s another these days. I had heart trouble a few years ago, and now this. I keep having to running to the toilet and have a raging thirst.”

“You need medical attention,” Bella said unexpectedly. “You’re showing all the signs of severe diabetes. My father got like that before he was diagnosed.”

Ten minutes later, Bill was sitting with his childhood tormentor in the lobby waiting for assistance.

“I’m sorry for making your school life hard,” Dake muttered, unable to meet Bill’s eyes.

“It was worse than that! You bullied me to the point I didn’t feel life was worth living! Why did you? I need to know,” Bill demanded.

Dake searched what remained of his soul for answers. “I don’t know,” he admitted at last. “Maybe it made me feel in more in control. Life was miserable at home, and at school I was somebody in front of the other kids.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur, but Bill somehow found the strength to get through his talk. He got a good reception at the end, and he couldn’t help noticing Bella was clapping the hardest.

“What made you come into the bathroom like that?” He asked her much later. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw you there.”

“You kept saying his name in your sleep. Saying “you’re dead” over and over. I haven’t forgotten the nightmares you had when we were together before.”

“Imagine what would have happened if you hadn’t appeared, Bella.”

“It doesn’t bear thinking about,” she said. “If you want us to make a go of this, you’ve got to promise me you’re going to get help. The past will always get in the way if you don’t.”

It turned out to be an easy promise to keep. More than a year after that fateful encounter, the terrible dreams are a thing of the past. Though his old enemy is hardly on Bill’s Christmas card list, he no longer regards him as a threat. Now Bill dreams of walking through the park with Bella, taking it in turns to throw a ball for their new dog. Somehow, he feels very close to achieving it.