Shmoo

By Catriona Reeby

Robert and Daniel grew up in the 1980s and did the things that brothers do: built dens, got into mischief and started to think about girls. But something happened to those two innocent boys that twenty years later threatens to tear Robert’s world apart.
Now Robert is a happily married man in his thirties. Like many people he does a job he no longer loves, and he spends a lot of time day-dreaming. Sarah, his wife, teases him but she doesn’t realise that something from his past is haunting him. Because Robert has a terrible secret.
Who is Shmoo? And why are Robert and Daniel now estranged? The tension builds and Robert’s world begins to crack.....

• Language: English
• Publisher: Catriona Reeby
• Release date: Jul 17, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310315046

Catriona Reeby

Catriona Reeby has been an engineer and environmental project manager, and now juggles writing with being a parent. She started writing in 2005 while on maternity leave – her first baby was a good sleeper. She started Shmoo in 2009 but during the following year her parents’ health quickly deteriorated and they died within 3 months of each other. Writing helped her get through it but Shmoo became darker.Despite sending Shmoo to around thirty literary agents she only received polite rejections. However, being determined to the point of pig-headedness, she decided to self-publish rather than leave Shmoo on a dusty shelf. Thank you for buying this book. It means a great deal.See www.catrionareeby.com

Book preview

What Others are Saying about Shmoo

This novel has pace, atmosphere, conviction and originality. It's both technically accomplished and entertaining and I’d highly recommend it.

F G Cottam, author of The Waiting Room and The House of Lost Souls

Intriguing and thought provoking, Shmoo sends your mind off in many directions, through a plethora of emotions then brings it all back together to a bitter sweet conclusion. A fascinating read.

Jane Pendlebury, Haslemere Readers Group

A book that I couldn't stop reading: addictive, poignant, funny and a tad sad. I loved it.

Karen Williams, Grayswood Silver Book Club

SHMOO

Catriona Reeby

Published by Catriona Reeby at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 Catriona Reeby

Front cover by Rick Chung

Smashwords Edition, Licence Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

For Margot and John Reeby.

Wonderful parents, sorely missed.

1931 – 2010

And also dedicated to my four amazing boys.

This is for you.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1, April 1986

Chapter 2, October 2010

Chapter 3

Chapter 4, July 1986

Chapter 5

Chapter 6, October 2010

Chapter 7

Chapter 8, February 1987

Chapter 9

Chapter 10, October 2010

Chapter 11

Chapter 12, August 1987

Chapter 13

Chapter 14, November 2010

Chapter 15

Chapter 16, January 1988

Chapter 17, November 2010

Chapter 18

Chapter 19, January 1988

Chapter 20, November 2010

Epilogue, October 1987

Acknowledgements

Book Club Questions

About the Author

Prologue

Robert sat at the bus stop, his head in his hands, London detritus whirling around his feet. His body was shaking now the initial shock was wearing off. He was lost. Utterly and hopelessly.

Looking up he could just make out the shape of his front gate in the encroaching evening gloom. Only fifty yards away but now impossibly far. That house, his home, had been a sanctuary for the last five years. Everything he loved was contained within its walls, and now it was closed to him.

How could this have happened again?

Shmoo sat next to him, hugging himself against the cold and looking contrite. After an awkward pause he said, I'm sorry.

Robert glared at him. In truth Shmoo looked like he meant it, although it was all a bit late now. Waves thundered through Robert – shame, regret and anger – building up to an explosion directed at his best friend.

This is all your fault!

Chapter 1

April 1986

Spring arrived unannounced and overdue one morning. Bobby looked out of the bedroom window to see watery sunshine and fluffy clouds. After months of being cooped up inside, over an endlessly cold and rainy winter, even he'd got bored of drawing and playing on Daniel's ZX Spectrum. At last the outdoors beckoned.

Daniel! Wake up. It's sunny, and there's no school today. Bobby raced over to his brother's bed, jumped on him twice and then returned to the window to yank the curtains open. His pictures of cars and spaceships drifted down from the desk to lie discarded on the carpet.

Urg, it's too early, came the muffled reply. Still, shortly afterwards he joined Bobby downstairs.

Mum, can we go out and play? Bobby asked after breakfast. I want to see if our den is still there.

I don't know, she replied. I don't want you getting dirty. We're going out later.

Bobby looked down with a heavy heart at the stay press trousers his mum had insisted on.

We won't get messy, Mum. Not if we just go for a quick walk down to the woods and back, said Daniel. We can wear our wellies.

Bobby perked up. Daniel always managed to look tidy, even after playing outside.

Their mum must have been persuaded because she relented. Oh, all right then, but don't get mucky. Wear your anoraks and make sure you're back here by lunchtime.

She might as well have asked them to remember to put the loo seat down after using it. At least be back at lunchtime had some chance of being acted upon, seeing as it would be dictated by their stomachs.

Thanks, Mum, they called as they grabbed their coats and ran out of the back door. Bobby saw her rolling her eyes as the door banged shut behind them.

They ran down the lane, across the back of Arnolds Garage with its clapped out World War 2 motorbike, past the church, and then into the woods that marked the end of the village.

Deeper and deeper into the woods they went, sniffing the wet peaty smell and trampling on tightly curled bracken shoots. As the trees became denser they suddenly stopped in awe. A huge beech tree, one they had never managed to climb, had blown over. It let in flecks of sunshine that dappled the crown in front of them. Their old dens and their mother's warning were instantly forgotten. Together they climbed into the tree.

Deep inside the tangle of branches they found a space where two boys could sit comfortably and swing their legs. Bobby lay back along the wide trunk and gazed up through the crisscross of branches above him, watching the clouds chase each other.

This will make a brilliant den, said Daniel. The best ever. We'll have to clear the way in a bit more. And we need to fill in the walls on these two sides. He chewed his fingernails as he worked out the structure in his head.

Can we make a lookout? Bobby asked.

Yeah, I should think so. Come on, let's get started.

Bobby's eyes shone.

They scrambled out of the tree and started collecting sticks and small branches to form the walls of their den. It was messy work and deeply satisfying. After an hour the den had really taken shape. Very pleased with themselves they stretched out, and might have stayed there all day if it hadn't turned chilly.

Bobby felt his stomach rumble and slowly became aware of their mother's parting words. The important ones about lunch.

Hadn't we better go home soon? It must be nearly lunchtime, he asked.

Oh no, lunch, and Uncle Richard! Come on. We'd better run! Daniel's panic was infectious. He leapt up and pushed his way out of the dying tree, Bobby following close behind.

They ran all the way back, kicking up leaves and getting caught on brambles. Within five minutes they were at their front door, where they stopped briefly to clutch their aching sides. Then, very quietly, they went into the house and down the hall to the kitchen, their senses alert. Three plates sat on the kitchen table. Apart from that the kitchen was empty, and the back door was open. Bobby looked at the clock. It said 2:15 p.m.

Daniel stared at their dinner, his mouth twisting as if he could taste the congealed pie and gravy. We're in deep trouble, he said.

Where's Mum? asked Bobby, wanting the comfort of his lovely mother. Even if she was angry.

Probably out looking for us. We'd better go and find her.

They spotted her a few minutes later as she turned the corner at the end of their lane.

Mum! shouted Bobby and he ran up to her.

She turned, her face lighting up in relief, and she crouched down to hug him. Then a cloud crossed her brow. You naughty boys! I told you not to go far, she scolded as she herded them back to the house. She gave Daniel a stern look. I've been out of my mind with worry. Daniel, you knew it was Uncle Richard's today. Oh heavens, look at the state of you both!

Daniel hung his head and Bobby felt sorry for him. It wasn't his fault that they'd gotten dirty.

Then she softened. Oh, Daniel, come here, she said, holding out her arms for her oldest child. He went to her for a shame-faced hug.

Glancing at her watch she groaned. Heavens, we should have left five minutes ago!

She looked at the two boys, taking in their long expressions and streaked clothing.

Right, upstairs now and put your school uniforms on. Quickly. And brush your hair. You'll have to make do with some crisps and a banana for lunch. Hurry! She rushed back into the kitchen to grab the makeshift lunch and her handbag.

By some miracle they made it to the church just before the hearse arrived. Liz ushered the two boys into their seats as the organ struck up, disaster averted. Bobby spotted his father waiting outside the church with the other pallbearers; his mum seemed to deliberately avoid him.

Almost immediately the service started. Uncle Richard's coffin was carried in and laid at the front. There was a hymn, a prayer, a reading, another prayer, another hymn, and then the coffin was carried back out again. The service wasn't very long, though it was long enough for two boys, who inevitably fidgeted. At one point Bobby noticed his father glaring at them from the pew in front, and he tried to sit still and pay attention, then Daniel hiccupped and it sent him into fits of silent giggles.

Out in the churchyard Bobby watched as the box containing an old man he'd hardly known was lowered into the ground. It felt creepy, knowing that Uncle Richard was inside. He glanced across at Daniel, but he seemed distracted by something in the distance. As soon as the service was over they crept away from their parents, who were making sympathetic small talk to distant relatives, and went off to explore the rest of the churchyard.

Bobby was trying to read the inscription on an old gravestone when Daniel came up.

Come with me, I've found a new one, he said and he led Bobby to a far corner of the churchyard. A small, new headstone topped a small, new grave. It read Hannah Everett, beloved daughter and sister. Born 18 October 1985, died 4 December 1985. Taken too soon.

Isn't that sad? said Daniel. She was just a baby.

I wonder what happened? said Bobby. It had never struck him that children might die. He'd thought it only happened to old people.

She might have been ill when she was born, or got some disease. She never had a chance to live. Daniel picked some dandelions from the grass and laid them on the bare soil. Then, having paid his respects, he allowed his attention to draw him away.

Bobby stood at the foot of the small grave, uncomfortable emotions swirling through him. It felt wrong. Stuff like that shouldn't happen. He looked around: the sun still shone down and the murmur of voices carried from their relatives, partly dispelling his chill. Daniel had wandered further off so Bobby ran to catch up.

I wonder where Uncle Richard is now? Bobby asked. He looked around at the trees waving in the breeze and the clouds scurrying across the sky.

He's over there you muppet, said Daniel. Why, do you think they buried the wrong person?

Bobby looked up sharply, and was relieved to see a smile playing around his brother's mouth. No, I mean his spirit, he said. Do you believe in God and Heaven? Do you think Uncle Richard's soul might have watched his own funeral? That would be weird.

I don't think so, said Daniel. The idea of Heaven just sounds like something to make people feel better. I mean, it's not very Iikely, is it? I believe in science. When you die all your atoms go back into the Earth. We've just done the carbon cycle at school. I think it's pretty cool that everything gets recycled. Even us.

What about God? asked Bobby.

Well I don't believe that there's some old man watching us from a cloud, if that's what you mean. But I think there's something special about us, something that makes us human. More than just chemicals.

That's like Star Wars, said Bobby. They've got the Force that connects all living things. He paused. I think I believe in God. I feel there's something else inside me. I don't want to be buried when I die though. That's creepy. When I die I want to be frozen and brought back to life a hundred years later. Then I can see what the future will be like.

But you'll be all alone. We'll be dead by then, Daniel said, idly tracing his name in the moss on the stones.

Then I'll have you frozen too, and we can do all this cool stuff together, like fly spaceships and visit new planets.

Leave me out of your weird fantasies. I don't want to be a monster, brought back from the dead when I'm all mouldy. No, if I've got a spirit I think I'll just come back and haunt you! He flicked a lump of moss at Bobby, but both boys started when a dark shadow fell across them.

Their father loomed over them in his black suit. What are you two up to? Haven't you caused enough mischief? You behaved abominably during the funeral, being late and then making a noise. And why are you wearing your school uniforms instead of your smart new clothes?

He marched them back to where the mourners were drifting back to their cars.

They sat in silence for the short journey to Aunt Marion's. The weather was clouding over and the first drops of rain were splashing down.

Perhaps it would be better if I took the boys home. I could come over and collect you later, their mother suggested gently.

No, Liz, he replied, showing his annoyance by using her Christian name. They're coming inside, where they are going to prove to my family that they are not just a couple of ill-mannered tearaways. You've been far too soft on them and now look at them. We can't take them anywhere.

Their mother looked sadly at the handbag on her lap while their father turned slowly in his seat to face them.

I have been embarrassed by you today. A funeral is a serious occasion and you two have fooled around, showing no respect to Uncle Richard or to me.

Bobby squirmed. He knew he was in trouble for getting dirty and fidgeting, but he didn't want his father to be angry with his mum. That wasn't fair.

Now, we're going into Aunt Marion's, where you will both apologise to her, and then you're going to sit quietly until we go home. Do I make myself clear?

Both boys nodded.

I didn't hear you, their father said.

They mumbled, Yes, Dad, in unison.

As their mother climbed out of the car he said, Liz, we'll talk more about this tonight.

That night Bobby waited for Daniel to follow him upstairs and climb into the bed opposite. A few minutes later their mother came into their room to kiss them goodnight.

I'm sorry if we were naughty today. And I'm sorry if we got you into trouble, Daniel said, echoing Bobby's earlier thoughts.

She smiled at them, her eyes warm and twinkling. I forgive you. You are two mischievous boys, but I can't stay angry with you for long. I know you wanted to go out and play, and I know that funerals are boring. Though it did upset Daddy. It matters to him that you behave when we see his family. She tucked Daniel in and then came over to Bobby's bed.

Mum, what happens to us when we die? he asked as she arranged his teddies. There wasn't much room for his head on his Superman pillow.

She sat back down on the edge of his bed and frowned as she thought about it.

Bobby quietly pulled his teddies back onto his pillow. She didn't notice.

Well, different religions think different things. We're Church of England, so we believe that our spirits go to Heaven. She fiddled with his bed covers a bit but made no move to get up so Bobby snuggled further down. He loved it when she stayed talking to them. He could see Daniel propped up on one elbow to listen.

It's sad about Uncle Richard, but he was old, she continued. And he wasn't very well. Everyone dies eventually. It's part of life. For him I think it was a release from the pain, but his spirit lives on, and he'll always be remembered by the people who loved him.

Bobby thought about Aunt Marion. She had difficulty remembering where she lived, so he wasn't sure she'd be much good at safekeeping Uncle Richard's memory.

Do you really believe that, Mum? asked Daniel from across the room. I mean, isn't religion just a placebo?

She snorted with laughter and got up to ruffle Daniel's hair. Where did you hear that? He shrugged and she laughed again. That's a good word, and it's an interesting question, but we haven't really got time for a long philosophical discussion right now. Still, that's what I love about you boys, always thinking and asking questions. You'll have to make your own minds up about this sort of thing.

Bobby was about to ask what a placebo was but he was distracted by his mother saying, So, would you boys like a story? Just a short one mind, it's late and there's school tomorrow.

Yes please, Mum, said Bobby, trying not to yawn again.

All right. She settled on Daniel's bed and thought for a moment. Then with seeming ease she spent the next five minutes carefully redirecting their thoughts away from death and left them drifting off to sleep with heads full of cowboys and Indians.

Chapter 2

October, 2010

Shmoo was standing by the lockers when Robert came into the basement changing rooms. He looked at his watch as Robert rushed past him.

You're going to be late again.

I know, but I'm just not a morning person.

Robert flicked his steaming T-shirt at Shmoo and jumped into the shower, leaving a trail of discarded cycling gear in his wake. After a very brief rendition of 'Things can only get better' he emerged and dried himself.

Shmoo watched as his friend rummaged in his back-pack and tried to straighten out a very tightly folded white shirt. Remind me again why you call me Shmoo? Not exactly a normal nickname, is it?

I can't remember but I know it made sense at the time. And speaking of time, do you think there's any chance I'll be able to sneak past Brian's office unnoticed?

I doubt it, come on. Into the fray.

In the lift Robert checked himself in the mirror. He was, to all outward appearances, an average man in his early thirties. His hair was a sandy-brown colour when dry and it had an annoying wave to it. He frowned at his bushy eyebrows and smoothed a long strand with a damp finger in an attempt to tame it back into shape. Shmoo, by contrast, had cropped fair hair and stood two inches taller. Whilst it was irritating that his best friend was better looking, Robert didn't begrudge Shmoo. He'd never had much luck with girls despite his looks.

Shmoo caught Robert looking at him in the mirror and stuck his tongue out.

As they approached his floor the moths started gathering in Robert's stomach, as they did most mornings. He attached a smile to his face as the lift doors pinged and stepped out into the open plan office, prepared to run the gauntlet up to his desk.

Morning, Brenda, he called to the receptionist.

"She looks like she's chewing