For the Love of Elsie

By Barbara Sales

A story of love and devotion in the face of heartache and sorrow. Over their final hours together, Stan and Elsie share events in their life through memories and flashbacks triggered by thoughts, photographs and objects in their everyday life.

Often flitting from one memory to the next their life together is retold, uncovering moments of happiness and times when grief was too much to bear.

Their love for one another ran deep and strong until a tragedy ripped their family apart, thus creating vast divides in their relationship where ultimately their love for one another was cast aside. Over time their wounds heal and as their lives come to a close their need to declare their love for each other is always just whisper away.

They soon realise that before the end comes they must overcome being the ghosts of the people they used to be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Nov 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9781528967105

Barbara Sales

Barbara and her husband live in Surrey. She has two grown-up children and one grandchild. Having been surrounded by books most of her life, she maintained the idea that one day she would write one of her own. She always believed in the saying: 'Everyone has at least one book in them.' Writing is now part of her life and being retired, she always manages to find time to pick up the laptop and immerses herself in her latest ideas.

Book preview

Epilogue

About the Author

Barbara and her husband live in Surrey. She has two grown-up children and one grandchild. Having been surrounded by books most of her life, she maintained the idea that one day she would write one of her own. She always believed in the saying: ‘Everyone has at least one book in them.’

Writing is now part of her life and being retired, she always manages to find time to pick up the laptop and immerses herself in her latest ideas.

About the Book

A story of love and devotion in the face of heartache and sorrow.

Over their final hours together, Stan and Elsie share events in their life through memories and flashbacks triggered by thoughts, photographs and objects in their everyday life.

Often flitting from one memory to the next their life together is retold, uncovering moments of happiness and times when grief was too much to bear.

Their love for one another ran deep and strong until a tragedy ripped their family apart, thus creating vast divides in their relationship where ultimately their love for one another was cast aside. Over time their wounds heal and as their lives come to a close their need to declare their love for each other is always just whisper away.

They soon realise that before the end comes they must overcome being the ghosts of the people they used to be.

Dedication

In loving memory of my father

Copyright Information ©

Barbara Sales (2019)

The right of Barbara Sales to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781528967105 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2019)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

25 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5LQ

By the Same Author

A House of Lies

Prologue

Stan shuffled into the bathroom and was immediately aware that someone else had walked in with him. He scanned the small space that surrounded him but saw no one; as he turned, he caught a glimpse of a face in the mirror that took him by surprise. A surge of apprehension rose up through his chest then into his throat, burning his flesh, it made its way further towards the point when it would spill into his open mouth, where it would be transformed into a feeble squeak of surprise – he needed to take another look. Feeling confused by this wave of emotion, he turned, watching the reflection as it slowly came into view.

What he expected to see was the face of a young man with bright eyes, a youthful smile and hair the colour of chestnuts; instead, the face that greeted him was that of an old man, it was him, Stanley – it was his own reflection.

Christ, how the hell did I get to look like that! he exclaimed.

Standing closer to the square mirror which was streaked with watermarks, he examined the aged face which was mapped with deep lines and wrinkles that told the story of his life. The face stared back at him blankly, watching him, then mirrored his every move as he traced each line with his right index finger that criss-crossed the slightly baggy skin that no longer fitted the skull beneath it.

The lines, they are like a map of my life, he told himself.

He continued running his finger over his cheeks, then across his forehead and finally around his eyes, as he did so the faded blue eyes that were once the colour of a cloudless blue sky stared back at him as if in a trance.

Stepping back a little, Stan wanted to get a better look at this worn out old man – he studied him closely, looking him up and down, turning this way then that, he was upset by what he saw. His once strong muscular physique had been replaced by one which belonged to an old man whose clothes now looked two sizes too big for his withered frame.

Stan ran his fingers through his white wispy hair that desperately needed a trim, then to the growth of white spikey stubble that covered the lower part of his face almost hiding his pale thin lips that seldom smiled anymore. He contorted his face into a silly grin, revealing his yellowed teeth, some were missing, leaving gaps behind or those he had lost had been replaced with those that were not real, but at least some were still his own. The face he was examining seemed to remain expressionless, not a trace of emotion could be seen; it was only tiredness that seemed to be present.

Placing his hand over the spot where his heart drummed out its sorrowful beat, he thought its rhythm seemed different somehow. Stan could feel its beat slow down and then quicken beneath his hand. He presumed that maybe it was his imagination, but then he felt the same familiar sensation in his left arm that had been troubling him for the last few days. He shook his arm as if to shake away the pain, but realised that this time the pain was different, it was beginning to creep up into his chest cavity, surrounding his heart, squeezing it until his breath became laboured.

Stan felt panicked as he struggled to get his breath, he began to feel lightheaded, he stepped forward so he could steady himself by holding onto the sink. The face in the mirror was looking at him but now looked like a fish out of water, its mouth was open wide as it tried to get as much air into its lungs as possible. Stan’s thoughts immediately went to Elsie, the love of his life, his only love, the woman he had known for his whole life, the woman who had brought him so much love and happiness but also so much pain and sadness.

Stan felt himself sink to the floor as his knees gave way beneath him, he knew he must stay where he rested until he had recovered enough to take refuge in his old armchair that was waiting for him in the sitting room. While he waited, his mind was flooded with memories of his life with Elsie.

She had always been there, he had never known life without her, even from the very beginning when he was only a young child. His childhood had been very happy, especially as he had spent most it with her; they had been the best of friends, they had always done everything together.

His thoughts drifted from them being children to them growing up into young adults and how a new chapter in their life began as their friendship grew into love, then how life allowed them to explore a world beyond the farm. Although their village was small, it gave them the chance to spread their wings a little, but as they learnt more about life and relationships, they became aware of the troubles within their family units with each finding themselves exposed to situations that they had no control over.

Stan fought the memories that were trying to take over his mind, he thought he could hear her calling, he needed to go to her. After taking a few deep breaths, Stan started to feel slightly better and was confident he would be able to walk without falling over. Before he could go to her, he knew he was faced with a more pressing problem; the challenge of getting to his feet. As he manoeuvred himself onto all fours, he was aware of still feeling a little light headed; so rather than stand, he decided to crawl, he needed to be careful, for Elsie’s sake more than his own, if he fell, he would be less likely to injure himself.

Making his way to the sitting room, he stopped by Elsie’s door and breathed a sigh of relief when he heard her gently snoring. Stan continued his way down the hall. By the time he reached the sitting room door his thoughts were back with Elsie. He loved her so much, he knew that marrying her had been the best thing that could have ever happened to him, apart from when the two of them had become three. He smiled to himself as he thought of how that little bundle of joy had started the next stage of their life together and that life was good.

By the time Stan had climbed into his favourite old armchair, he was thinking about how their perfect world had been destroyed in a matter of minutes, thus throwing their lives into complete and utter turmoil. The pressures of everyday life mounted beyond belief. His relationship with Elsie had descended into a world of torment – he had desperately tried to pull her from a world of darkness, to mend her broken heart, to win back her trust and love for him. Those were dark years, the memories still haunted him, and the nightmares visited him virtually every time he closed his eyes.

Stan leant back, letting his body relax into the worn-out armchair, he asked himself why his life had taken that path, a path that had brought him so much sorrow. A life that had been so difficult to live, a life that had taken his Elsie away from him for so long, a life that had needed him to fight for her love again, a life that he didn’t deserve.

Sighing as a dull pain weaved its way across his chest again, he muttered to himself,

Nearly at the end now, Stan, it won’t be long.

He knew that they were both nearly at the end of their lives, it would soon be all over for them; all those years gone in the blink of an eye. He felt a sudden sadness as he thought of not playing a part in life anymore – like an actor, his and Elsie’s roles were over, it was nearly time for their final curtain to fall.

Smiling to himself again, he thought of how they had shared so much together right from their very beginning, he didn’t want the good times to be forgotten, he wanted to share those memories with Elsie one last time. He had so much he wanted to say to his wife; things that she needed to hear, things that he had always found difficult to say, things that she had never wanted to hear him say. Stan knew some may be difficult for her to hear but it had to be done before it was too late, before he was no longer able to.

He knew he was not a religious man, but he prayed all the same, asking that together they would be able to say the words that they had always found hard to say to one another, to speak openly and honestly for the first time since that tragic day so long ago. He thought of Elsie lying in the room next to where he sat, he promised himself that before it was time for them to start the next chapter of their lives together, they would share some of those memories and hope they would no longer be the ghosts of the people they once were.

********

Chapter One

Stan woke with a start when he heard a low muffled sob. ‘Elsie must be having one of her dreams’, he thought to himself. The open photo album slid off his lap, joining the pile of others that were scattered around at his feet. Each square black and white photo on the opened page held a memory for Stan, a memory of a person or an occasion from somewhere in his past. He smiled as he thought of how he had treasured his photos all his life, ever since the day he had taken his very first one. Each image, when pieced together with all the others, would tell the story of his life; his life with Elsie. Stan’s happy thoughts disappeared as he began to feel slightly angered when he thought of how Elsie had tried to destroy his prized possessions when she was in the grip of emotional despair. He had found her in the very room where he sat – she was sitting crossed legged on the floor, sobbing into her hands which held a photo of their son; she was surrounded by torn pages and photos which had been scattered every which way around her. He had tried to console her, talk to her, help her, but all he got in return was verbal abuse, until finally she had thrown the hard-plastic cover of one of the albums at him, he touched the area just over his right eye knowing that under his fingertip lay the scar where it had made contact. Stan sighed mumbling to himself,

Oh Elsie, we went to hell and back, you and me; those were dark times.

Stan questioned himself as he thought of how he had tried to help her, did he do enough, had he tried hard enough to lift her when she was at her lowest, to be there for her when she wanted to talk, to be strong for her, for both of them? He knew he had always been there for her even though she tried to push him away, not wanting to be helped but be left to deal with her grief in her own way. He used to think that she was on a mission of self-destruction, that he would lose her too if he didn’t try to help her out of the deep black abyss that she had slowly slipped into. Stan thought for a moment longer about those dark years, the years when they had been ghosts of the people they had used to be. It had taken years for him to bring her back from her despair, to be able to begin living their lives together again, to regain their need for each other, for him to regain her trust, her love.

Closing his eyes, he let his mind wander – thoughts of his early life with Elsie began to remind him of how much fun they’d had growing up together living on the farm. His thoughts then flitted, which was what usually happened when he remembered.

He thought of Bobby, their son, and how he had enjoyed his short life on the farm just as much as they had, until God opened his arms for him to join Him. Life had been good to them up to that fateful day, but their life had been destined to take another path which was one of darkness and despair. After that tragic day, their world was turned upside down – life was never to be the same ever again.

Stan opened his eyes for a brief moment, his blurred vision eventually focusing on the photo of a young Elsie that graced the oak mantelpiece. It was his favourite photo of her; he would often gaze at it reminiscing about their youth. He smiled as he thought of how he had often pinched himself when he was with her as he sometimes found it hard to believe that someone so beautiful wanted to be with him.

He sighed, then breathed in deeply, catching the slight odour of burnt wood and ash from the fire that had been roaring in the grate the evening before. An image of a young Elsie lying on the rug in front of the fire at the farmhouse suddenly came to him, In his mind he saw her naked, her skin glistening with a light covering of sweat from where they had lost themselves in the depths of passion, all their inhibitions lost as they seized the moment of being alone for the evening. He smiled to himself as he thought about the years before they married and how it was a rarity that his parents would both be out at the same time, so whenever that happened to be, they made the most of their alone time.

As the image of Elsie faded from his mind, he became aware of a slight tingling in his fingertips, he wiggled them and felt the tingling sensation slowly creep from his fingers on his left hand and slowly move up to his wrist. As it continued to move upwards, Stan knew exactly what was happening; he held his arm out in front of him, then while rubbing it with his right hand, he mumbled,

I know you’re coming, I know the signs, just don’t take me before Elsie’

He glanced back at the photo of her before he closed his eyes again and drifted back into deep thought about their married years together, both before and after that fateful summer when the light of their life was no more. His flitting mind first took him to his life after that day, his life, which was one of misery, worrying about Elsie and trying to do the right thing for her. She had tried to push him away, not loving him, but he had fought for her, he had fought hard to bring her back to him, he loved her dearly; he still did. He remembered the pact they had made the day they married; they would remain inseparable until the end; they would go together. He knew they were reaching the end of their time; he knew that they didn’t have long left, he didn’t know why he knew, he just knew; call it intuition. Before his mind flitted off in another direction, he made himself concentrate and realised that he had so much he wanted to say to her before the end came, things he had kept hidden away in the deepest part of his being. There were so many memories that he wanted to share with her for one last time.

Stan decided that was what he should do; he should open his heart and bear his soul; he would express his undying love for her and forgive her for all she had put him through.

Hearing a noise, he heaved himself to his feet and made his way out of the sitting room towards where Elsie was sleeping. When he reached her room, he could see that she was restless, he continued towards her, stopping by the side of her bed, he watched helplessly as her head went from side to side as if she were shaking it. She moaned as her facial expressions changed from being in a peaceful sleep to one of anguish. He stared at her, not knowing what to do. Should he wake her from her troubled sleep to free her from her nightmare or leave her; he stood watching for a moment longer, trying to imagine where her nightmare had taken her.

********

Elsie’s nightmare had taken her back to the day she lost her son. She was standing watching as the events of the tragic accident unfolded in front of her, only this time she was just an observer. She stood on the scorched grass at the edge of the lake watching herself and her family, she watched as her boy was carried by her brother, limp and lifeless out of the water.

********

Stan sat himself on the old wooden pine chair next to Elsie’s bed and stroked her hand. As he heard his name being mumbled, he gazed at his wife as she looked at him through her sleep-heavy eyes. He knew she wasn’t really looking at him, but he was glad that she was free of her nightmare and relieved that she seemed more settled. He stayed close to her as sleep wrapped its black cloak around her once more, taking her back to the world where she relived her happy times, where she relived sad times and the world where her nightmares where so vivid that she thought she was in hell itself.

Stan stayed with Elsie for a few more minutes. Once he felt he could leave her; he seized the moment and went back to his chair to continue his nap; he felt tired both physically and mentally. Settling into his chair, he allowed his eyes to close immediately, drifting off into a relaxed sleep, only to be woken not half an hour later by a voice calling his name.

********

Although Elsie was only in the room next to the sitting room, Stan had set up a baby monitor system, so he could hear her when she called for him as Elsie didn’t always have the strength to call loudly anymore. Stan recollected how he had found the monitor in the back of the cupboard in her room; he had been puzzled by this but had immediately realised its usefulness. It had been amongst many other bits and bobs that Elsie had kept, things that she couldn’t bear to throw away, things that held so many memories.

Stan sighed as he heard his name again, he tried to get up but failed miserably, falling back into the same position he had been seconds before. As he tried to get up for the second time from his old decrepit armchair, he heard his name being called once more, but this time he could tell there was an urgency in his wife’s voice, he knew immediately what the problem was.

There was one job Stan hated more than any other, the one that made him retch sometimes, the one that he still felt embarrassed about, the one he was about to do. He attempted to get moving, but alas! Trying to get his tired old legs moving was becoming an ever-increasing challenge these days. He wobbled slightly and grabbed the arm of the chair to steady himself as he tried to kick away some of the photo albums that were still strewn in front of his feet. Images looked up at him from the open pages of the books, he tried to focus his eyes, but they stayed a blur as sleep still clouded his tired eyes. He heard his bones creak in disapproval as he finally began to move.

Stan, please Stan. On hearing his name again Stan replied,

OK, I’m coming now my love.

Tottering a little, Stan started making his way back to Elsie’s room.