Chapter 14
Compton Wells School, Bristol
Monday 12th October
9.15 a.m.
David Fear, the new headmaster of Compton Wells, took the morning assembly.
“I would like to introduce you to a new member of staff.” He motioned to Markland, who stood in the corner of the school hall.
Markland stepped onto the small stage and stood alongside Fear.
“This is Mr Garraway, and he is our new Attendance Improvement Officer.”
A hushed groan was heard around the hall, which caused a few of the teachers standing behind the headmaster to grin. Markland took the stage.
“Good morning everyone, and I trust you’re looking forward to a new week at this wonderful school.”
A few of the children smirked.
“I’m Mr Garraway, and I am, as Mr Fear has already informed you, your new Attendance Improvement Officer, or Truancy Officer if that means more to any of you. I’m not as scary as my title sounds. It’s true, that my main role is to clamp down on those of you who are persistent truants, and I have already been advised of a few repeat offenders.”
A few of the children shuffled, and a messy ginger haired boy flicked the back of the boy sitting in front of him.
“I would like to think that I am here to help. Students stay away from school for various reasons, and if any of you would like to speak with me, in confidence of course, about anything that may be worrying you, anything that is keeping you up at night, my door here will always be open.”
He nodded, smiled and took a step back, allowing Mr Fear to continue with school assembly.
At the back of the hall stood Howie Doyle, the school caretaker. He’d not long ago finished reading Tom Judd’s book about the extraordinary Ben Walker murder case. He couldn’t believe Markland Garraway, the very same man who had unwittingly, but ultimately proved to the world that life exists after death, now worked at the same place as he.
This must be more than just coincidence, thought Howie.
He desperately needed to speak with him. But Howie was a shy man, and wasn’t confident to go right up and talk to him. Instead he spent the day pondering over how he should introduce himself.
Markland didn’t get very much work done on his first day. He was introduced to so many different people, he was having difficulty remembering who was who. But there was one thing he did know. Everyone to whom he had been introduced, everyone whose hand he shook and every member of staff who passed him in the corridors, knew exactly who he was.
Word had got around that the Markland Garraway would be working at the school. Over half of those who worked at Compton Wells had bought, read and finished Tom Judd’s book before Markland set foot in the school that morning.
Not many of the pupils were aware of who he was. Most of them were too young to know. But, there were a few who had heard of him. They’d caught something on the news about the story and had remembered the uncommon name ‘Markland Garraway’. Not only his name made him stand out, but also his Scottish accent. It didn’t take long for those children who hadn’t known who he was, to be told by their friends exactly what it was he was famous for. But it had become a game of Chinese whispers. So many different rumours had spread around the school. They ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous. Some children had heard from their friends that he had saved a baby from dying in Badock’s wood, others were told he’d died and come back as a ghost, and others believed that he had stood in front of God and spoken to him face to face.
This was exactly what Anton Bueller, the man who had decided to employ him, had feared.
Markland knew his colleagues were aware of who he was. They hadn’t said anything, nor did they have to. It was the way they spoke with him and the way they looked at him. When he walked into the staff room, conversations briefly stopped and then carried on as before. He just didn’t realise how well known he had become, and he wasn’t sure whether he liked it.
By 3.30 the children had gone home. The teachers were finishing up and preparing for the next day. Markland had come to the end of his first day of employment in a long time and he felt good. He’d not yet engaged with any pupils, but hoped that tomorrow he would begin to make a difference.
The office which he shared with Sue Blackwell and Dudley Thomas was all his. Sue and Dudley had left ten minutes earlier. Someone had put a temporary name plate on the office door to signify that the office now belonged to Sue, Dudley and Markland. He sat alone, and thumbed through some paperwork and drank lukewarm coffee. He was in no rush to go home. There was no one waiting for him, no one to ask him how his first day at work had been, no one to kiss him on the cheek or take his coat and hang it under the stairs. If Joan had been at home, he would have been out of there by now, desperate to tell her how his day had been. But she wasn’t. Nobody was there, and because of this, he was happy to hang around the school.
At least after today, the next time he met with Joan, he would have something to tell her. He could let her know about his new job.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Hello,” called Markland.
A young man nervously entered the small office and stood with his back to the door.
“Hi, I’m Howie Doyle, the school caretaker.”
“Ah, yes, Mr Doyle, I remember you from the other week. You locked the school gates after I’d driven out of the carpark.”
Howie nodded.
“How can I help you?”
Howie moved closer and sat opposite Markland. He found it hard to comprehend that he was face to face with the man from the book. There was something he needed to speak with him about. But first of all he had a confession to make.
Markland was an imposing man. He was well built and over six feet tall, which made Howie, who was around the same height, but as skinny as a beanpole, even more nervous than he needed to be. But he had the strength and resolve to pluck up enough courage to speak with Garraway. He needed his help.
An awkward moment followed while Markland waited for Howie to speak.
“Mr Garraway, I really need to speak with you, I think that perhaps you can help me.”
Markland subconsciously rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. Over the past few years he’d been approached by so many people in the street who wanted his advice on supernatural things, that he’d become intolerant of anyone who wanted to share their experiences, or ask his views.
“Yes, Mr Doyle, what is it?” replied Markland looking at his watch.
Howie sensed that he clearly did not want to talk. But still, he continued regardless.
“Um, first of all, I had no idea that you were going to be working at this school, and secondly…… and secondly…… I, I …..” Howie stuttered as he searched for courage to say what he’d came there to say. “It was me who put the notes through your letter box, it was me who asked you to meet me at the hill in Badock’s Wood.”
Great, just bloody great thought Markland as he considered the prospect that he was working with one of those whom he deemed a nutcase.
“I presume you’ve read Tom’s book?” asked Markland.
“I have, but that’s not why I need to speak with you.”
“You must understand Mr Doyle, the things that happened have caused me an awful lot of trouble. I don’t think Mr Judd has conveyed in the pages of his book quite how severe a turn in the wrong direction my life took. Taking this job at this school is something I’ve done to help me overcome what I’ve been through, and I don’t appreciate that on my very first day, I’m talking to members of staff about their problems.”
Howie lowered his head and Markland continued.
“As far as meeting you in Badock’s Wood, well that won’t ever happen. If I set foot in that place ever again, I am certain it will do me more harm than good ……, now if you please, I must be getting on.”
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br /> But Howie wasn’t giving up so easily, he was determined to seek Markland’s help.
“Please hear me out Mr Garraway, it’s taken a lot of courage for me to approach you. Something very strange has happened to someone who is very close to me and I think you can help.”
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Howie, like thousands of others who had known about the Ben Walker case, had visited Badock’s Wood and had sat upon Mill Tut, the Bronze age burial mound that had become known as ‘The Hill’. Many had visited The Hill out of curiosity. Some had been there to ‘be at one’ with the earth. But a few, including Howie Doyle had experienced something unexpected. The Hill chose carefully. Whatever force drove the supernatural powers of Mill Tut did so for a reason, and it was specific in its choice of those whose lives it touched. Now it was reaching out to Howie.
Howie finished reading Tom Judd’s book the day after his friend, James Trafford, had returned to his father’s home after disappearing for four days. He’d returned a different person. Howie was sure his friend hadn’t received something as simple as a ‘bump on the head’, to have caused his memory loss. As far as Howie was concerned James was a different person, and not just in his character, he really was a different person compared to who he was before he’d disappeared.
He had approached the hill in Badock’s Wood one quiet Sunday afternoon after reading Tom Judd’s book to see whether anything would happen.
The moment he placed his foot on the base of the five-thousand-year old relic, he had become overwhelmed with a wave of nausea. He’d sat at the bottom of the mound, closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands. The unsettling feeling of sickness soon passed, and was replaced by what appeared to be an image as seen through a kaleidoscope. There, hundreds, perhaps thousands of faces moved around as if on a child’s roundabout viewed from above. Each face was a little different to another, but one thing was sure, each face belonged to James Trafford.
The vision lasted no longer than thirty seconds, but had it been long enough for Howie to be certain that someone, or something had been trying to speak to him.
This was why he needed to speak with Markland, and this was why he needed to meet him at The Hill.
-----------------
Markland wriggled in his seat whilst he considered Howie’s request.
“Okay, okay Mr Doyle, I’ll listen to what you have to say, but please don’t expect anything from me…….. just tell me what’s bothering you.”
Howie sighed, and wondered how he should begin.
“I suppose it’s a kind of missing person issue, but the person who is missing has returned.”
Markland frowned.
“A missing person. Have you spoken to the police?”
“A missing persons’ report had been filed, but as I just said, the person who had gone missing has now returned and……”
Markland held up his hand, and Howie stopped mid-sentence.
“I don’t intend to sound rude Mr Doyle, but a missing person who is now back isn’t an issue.”
“Please, let me finish.”
Markland cast his mind back to the heady days of the Walker case and how he’d become the centre of ridicule. He’d been ostracised by his work colleagues, and had nowhere to turn. Had it not been for a few individuals who were prepared to look at the bigger picture and think beyond the thresholds of everyday judgement, he wouldn’t have been able to solve the case and Ben Walker’s murderer would likely still be at large today.
“I’m sorry Mr Doyle, I shouldn’t have interrupted, please carry on.”
Howie took a breath and continued.
“A friend of mine, who happens to be my best friend since I was a kid, went missing from his father’s home a few weeks ago. Luckily, he’s returned. The circumstances in which he returned are, let’s say, peculiar. And since he’s returned, his memories are completely different to the ones that myself and his father have.”
“Surely this is just a simple case of amnesia. Something must have happened while he’d gone missing. He’s probably suffering from concussion.”
“We’ve been through all of that, we’ve checked out the obvious things such as a bang on the head, but there are other things which appear to be far more sinister and frankly, I don’t think can be explained.”
“Such as?”
Howie was aware that he wouldn’t keep Markland’s attention for very long, but felt it important that he provide the information to him in the same order as Howie had discovered it.
“To begin with, when James’, …. Sorry James Trafford is the missing person, when James’ father called me to say he’d returned, I dropped what I was doing and headed over. When I got there, it was clear that something was wrong. First of all, he wouldn’t accept who I said I was. Even though I’d shown him pictures of the two of us and us with our friends, he refused to believe me. According to James, I died when I was fourteen, and it was his father who’d killed me.”
“His father killed you? How did that happen?”
“According to James, it was a road traffic accident and James’ father was behind the wheel.”
Garraway nodded.
“We’ve been friends since infants’ school. His memories of the early days of our friendship are impeccable, he can remember more than me. But when we get to the day I was supposed to have died, our memories are totally different.”
“Well, I suppose they would be if he thinks you’re dead.”
“But the odd thing is, there are elements of similarity. He married a beautiful girl called Helena. I was his best man and I have the pictures to prove it. The marriage didn’t last long, he fooled around, got caught and that was the end of that. This is why he has ended up living back with his father Han.”
Howie paused. Markland could tell that Howie was anxious and allowed him time to take a breath.
“According to James, he’s still married to Helena, they have two sons and live in Exeter.”
“Has he told you this?”
“No actually he hasn’t. He tells me very little. It’s hard to get a word out of him. I spoke to his father a few days ago. Han told me that he’d convinced him to go the doctor. It was then James opened up. He said that he lived in Exeter with his family, but when he’d tried to make contact with Helena, guess what?...”
“She doesn’t exist,” said Markland. finishing Howie’s sentence.
“It seems that way.“
“I’m sorry Mr Doyle, I am still unable to see why you would need to speak with me about your friend James. From what you’re saying, it’s clear that he’s suffering from memory loss. He’s confused, and whatever happened when he went missing has affected him.”
“But I haven’t told you the odd stuff yet.”
“Odd stuff?” said Markland, his attention level stepping up a notch.
“Well the first thing is that his appearance has changed, not a lot, but enough to make me think he’s not the same person who disappeared.”
“What’s different?”
Howie pulled his phone from his pocket and brought up several pictures of James and himself which were taken in early September.
“Look closely, you see he has a scar beneath his eye. I remember when he got this, he was bitten in the face by a dog when he was a kid.”
Markland took the phone, expanded the image and saw the scar beneath his left eye. He handed the phone back to Howie, who scrolled through the images and found one of the most recent pictures he’d taken and then handed the phone back to Markland.
“I took this one just over week ago. His father and I had taken him for a drink. It was taken without James knowing.”
Markland looked at the picture of James. The first thing he noticed was how much older and lined he appeared to be in comparison to the pictures taken in September. Also, Markland saw the face of a troubled man. His eyes were sunken and his pallor was dull.
“Look at the scar,” said Howie.
“I
t’s gone.”
“No, it’s still there. Look under his right eye.”
Markland saw that the scar was below James’ right eye.
“Photo software,” said Markland in a dismissive tone.
“I assure you it’s not. It’s not only the scar that’s moved sides, he’s now left handed. The James that I know has always been right handed. It wouldn’t surprise me that if you cut him open his heart would be on the other side, and everything else about him was swapped over too.”
“Okay Mr Doyle, I admit you have my attention, but I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for all of this, although right now, I can’t think what the explanation could be.”
“But please hear me out, I’ve still not got to the really strange bit.”
Markland repositioned himself in his chair and waited for Howie to continue.
“Han, James’ father, called me the evening he’d accompanied James to the doctors’ surgery. The doctor seemed to have the knack of coaxing details from James. Details which he’d not told me, nor his father. The doctor had asked him whether anything odd had happened to him recently. James had admitted to having nightmares, three nights in a row. This was the first his father had heard of this. The first two nightmares were the same, but the third was different. The first two dreams ended with James pushing a pillow over his father’s face, it seemed he was trying to kill him. But the third one ended with his father attacking him. It seems his dad was ready and waiting. When he awoke from the dream he found himself across his fathers bed, with his arms and legs tied.”
“Do you mean being tied up across his father’s bed was part of the third nightmare?”
“No, this is how he found himself when he regained consciousness.”
“Don’t you mean, when he woke from the dream?”
“No, in his dream his father had hit him in the face, He’d hit him really hard and knocked him out, …… and this is where it gets really weird. His father had been having exactly the same nightmares at exactly the same time and had been on the receiving end of the dreams. He’d wake up after dreaming of being suffocated by a shadowy grey figure in his room.”
“Is this what his father told you?”
“Yes, he admitted this a few days ago when we spoke over the phone. Anyway, he had the same dream the third time, the same as James. He’d hit him right between the eyes. He told me he’d woken to find the shady character from his dream out for the count across his bed. He didn’t suspect the person to be his son, and had assumed him to be an intruder and so tied his arms and legs together.”
“Mr Doyle, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
“What Han Trafford is proposing is that he punched a man out of his nightmare, and that man happened to be his son who’d been missing. They both had the marks to prove it. James had a bruise from the punch and his father had bruised and swollen knuckles.”
“I have to say it’s an intriguing story, and one which I can understand must be very traumatic for James and his father. How do you think I could help?”
“I’d read the book written by the hypnotist, and decided to take a trip to the woods.”
Markland shuddered as Howie explained what had happened when he had sat upon Mill Tut.
“Just like with you Mr Garraway, The Hill has tried to communicate with me. It’s not given any answers, but I’m sure something is going on, something which isn’t quite of this world. I wanted you to come along and sit with me to see whether you would experience anything…… but you didn’t turn up.”
“No, I didn’t turn up. And I’m not sorry for staying away. As I’ve said Mr Doyle, those woods and that hill had made me very ill, and I have no immediate plans to return. I wish you well and you have my blessings, but you will have to deal with this alone. I cannot help.”
“But please.”
“If you want my advice, keep away from the woods. Deal with what’s happening with your friend, be supportive of him and be supportive of his father. I’m sure the doctor will be able to help. Just don’t get drawn to the woods and especially that burial mound.”
Markland stood up, grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and left the office.
Howie stood alone and listened to Markland’s footsteps fade as he walked along the corridor and headed home.
Howie Doyle wasn’t going to give up quite so easily, and was prepared to return to The Hill as many times as it would take to find out what was going on.