Walking the mile or so to the seafront of Golden Bay, named so not surprisingly because of the picture perfect sandy beaches I decided that I would make my best effort to prevent myself from becoming emotional about the loss of my family, reasoning that to do so would be an admission that I had lost them forever. It maybe wishful thinking or a flaw in my character, but I am unable to accept my own mortality and the ones for who I care, in spite of me knowing that all scientific evidence points to that being the case. I truly believe that our spirits live on after this life. In my present form I would be limited and confined by my physical being but truly I hoped that it would be the tiniest of droplets in the sea of time that defines our existence. Somewhere somehow I would be with my angels again.
After about ten minutes walking I arrived at the Bay Palace hotel, relieved to have made it unmolested by the knowing eyes of our small community. In such a small place where the population is about five thousand locals, everyone seems to know everyone else’s business. The event of what had happened to my family and I, would be the main news and point of gossip for the immediate weeks if not months to come. I knew a lot of the residents of our community and many of them I took pleasure in calling my friends but I couldn’t bare the thought of facing any of them yet, I was happy for the reprieve from the inevitable condolences, however well meaning I knew they would be. My main priorities for now were a shower and possibly a stiff drink and when I felt up to it a good meal. The Bay Palace hotel would be the perfect refuge or the foreseeable future. The Palace is an elegant Victorian building, which dominates the sea front and could easily cater for about four hundred guests in the midst of high season. Holding the centre ground of Golden Bay it gives spectacular views. Without a doubt it wouldn’t look out of place in any modern city and would put even some of the finer hotels of London to shame. It is a real credit to our humble town. Although the high standards of comfort would definitely be a bonus, the attractions for me were the facilities and reception service. With relative ease I could vet any callers or visitors. My privacy would be assured and be firmly under my own control. I walked up the white stone steps and between the two large pillars of the main entrance. It was winter and as the hotel would have few guests the doorman’s position was unmanned, it remained manned only during the summer season. So I had the inconvenience of opening my own door. I hear you scoffing, put London hotels to shame indeed. Undaunted by the physical effort I moved into the foyer. Once past the main doors the foyer area is spacious and airy, a subtle peach aroma welcomed and gave a stark contrast to the cheap disinfectant I’d become accustomed to at the hospital. Underfoot lay what I presume to be marble tiles in rich red ochre that gleamed wonderfully, accentuated by impeccable cleanliness and complimented with perfectly balanced lighting. I made my way over to the reception desk and booked in for a fortnight with the young male receptionist. I also ordered a bottle of Jack Daniels to be brought up to my room. I needed to take the edge off and this would save me the bother of calling for a bottle from my room, I was tired and needed to sleep the Jack Daniels would smooth the way. I took the foyer lift to my third floor room and after a few seconds of dispute with my card key entered my room. My haven from the world and its future realities, at least until I’d built up the resolve to face them.
My bottle arrived promptly, I’d just had time to ring Jane my secretary to arrange for her to visit the house and pick up some cloths and toiletries. She seemed a little concerned that I had not managed to get into the house once she had dropped me off but was tactful enough not to pursue or pry on the reason why. I made some feeble attempt at an excuse for her not to bring the bag of cloths to my room, reasoning with her that I was going to have a few hours sleep, so she could leave the bag at reception and I would collect it later. She didn’t protest. I opened the bottle and began to get reacquainted with my old buddy Jack.
I woke up the next morning feeling like a pig had shat in my head; I must have been out cold for about twelve hours. I’d finished the full bottle of JD and it looked like I’d taken some of the sedatives I’d been given at the hospital. At first I thought I’d dreamt it but I recalled receiving a disturbing phone call after drinking well over half the bottle of JD. I’d decided to take a shower and took the bottle with me for company and sat down in the shower drinking for what seemed like an age but was only probably about an hour or so. After drinking the best of about two thirds of the bottle I stumbled out of the shower and made my way into the bedroom and crashed out on my bed in just a towel determined to finish off the rest of the bottle when the phone began to ring. I hadn’t wanted to answer it but the caller was persistent and my mood encouraged by the drink had convinced me to tell the caller where they could go, besides I’d told the receptionist in the foyer that I did not want to be disturbed under any circumstances, maybe I needed to make that point a little more clear. I picked up the phone.
“Mr Knight?”
I didn’t recognize the voice but took it for granted that this was another receptionist who had not been informed of my request not to be disturbed.
“Listen I gave specific instructions not to be disturbed, I’ve had a very traumatic day if you know what’s good for you, you will make sure I am not disturbed again, do I make myself perfectly clear?”
I waited for a response it was not immediately forth coming.
“Mr Knight I am not the receptionist”
This guy was beginning to piss me off who ever he was.
“Listen not the receptionist I don’t care who the hell you are. How the hell did you get this number?”
Again there was a long pause before he answered but it was not intentional, at first I thought this guy was just rude but the delay in him responding… I’d experienced it before, when I spoke to my brother or I myself was on a business trip calling from somewhere remote. This guy was definitely calling long distance and if my suspicions were correct he was calling on a satellite phone.
“Mr Knight you are right who I am is not important, in fact that will save us some time, what is important is the information I am about to give you, whether you believe it or not is also unimportant at this time, what is though is that you remember it. So I suggest you go easy on the alcohol.”
How the hell did he know I was drinking? I looked to check the windows. The blinds were closed.
“Mr Knight, are you ready to hear what I have to tell you?”
Who ever this guy was he seemed very sure of himself and although I didn’t like his attitude one bit he had definitely got my attention. I decided to play along to see where this was going.
“Yes tell me what you have to say although I can’t make any promises about the drink but I’ll be sure to take notes.”
“That’s good Mr Knight Notes would also be good, only be sure to destroy them once you have read them, once you have sobered up.”
My sarcasm was lost on this guy but I decided to give him a second chance.
“Yes I’ll tear them in to tiny pieces and swallow the evidence.”
“Right Mr Knight listen carefully, what I have to tell you will come as a shock but it is important that you hear it even if you don’t believe it, your wife and daughter; they are still very much alive.”
I believe myself to be a man of the world and although I wouldn’t put anything past the low lifers that preside in the gene pool, this was low. I’d heard of it happening to people, some crank exploiting the relatives of the recently deceased with promises of contact to the other side through highly suspect mediums. No doubt in return for large sums of money once the necessary grooming and manipulation had taken place. I was surprised it had reached the sleepy seaside town I lived in. Then again the accident could have reached the national news level. Petrol tankers exploding are probably dramatic enough to be deemed worthy of broadcasting to the nation. I doubt if the death of my family on its own would have been justification enough in itself. Either way I wasn’t standing for the tactics of this slivering swamp life.
“Listen you turd, this pathetic stunt may work on little old ladies who’s minds are not at their bests but don’t think for a second I’m going to fall for this ridiculous repertoire of yours, you exploiting parasite”
He interrupted before I had finished my dressing down.
“That is good Mr Knight you should trust no one, from now on you should suspect anything that anyone says to you. Trust no one Mr Knight, No one! My name is Siymion, remember it!”
He put the phone down before I had chance to tell him where he could stick his advice. The audacity of the man, I hadn’t dwelled long on it though I must have finished the bottle of JD and from the collection of mini bottles on the floor I must have also started on the mini bar before I had succumbed to the effects and passed out.
