The rain was beginning to obscure the hills on the border, and it wouldn’t be long before the storm reached Michael standing on the hill, enjoying the last of the view, as the west wind began to whip his face. Slowly, some might say reluctantly, he got back in his car and began his journey back to Tyneside.
A veil was drawn over the landscape and similarly drawn over so many memories. Suddenly, the clouds broke open and Tyneside and the sea were all in front of Michael. Instantly the memories came flooding back, like the rain that had hidden the Cheviots.
From the top of the ancient Whin Sill escarpment, that still ran through the region, like an arrow from the distant past, Michael could see the Northumbrian lowlands stretching out towards the city.
The road wound on and gradually the traffic became heavier. As the clouds parted, so familiar buildings could be seen on the horizon. Michael was home again.
It was just getting dark as Michael pulled into an anonymous housing estate and an equally anonymous road. Driving carefully and looking for number 47, he inspired the wrath of an impatient driver behind him, who flashed his lights and shouted something unintelligible across his bows. It was so good to be home…
The Prodigal
At length Michael found number 47 and rang the doorbell. The hall light dutifully came on and the door opened. There stood his sister Pauline and brother John.
John greeted his brother: “So, the prodigal returns.”
“Something like that… yeah,” Michael replied.
“Well come on in then,” Pauline said chirpily.
Michael followed John and Pauline into the living room.
“Well, take a seat then. We have a lot of catching up to do,” said Pauline.
“Er…yeah…thanks,” Michael replied quietly.
Pauline and John sat down as well. There was an awkward silence, until Pauline spoke up.
“So, is it good to be back home Michael?”
“Well, I have just been shouted at by another car driver…”
“You will get more of that round here these days, I’m afraid,” Pauline informed Michael. “Things have changed. I dunno… people just seem…well, angrier, I suppose.”
“They can be,” agreed John.
“Why is that then?” asked Michael.
“Do you not read the news any more,” John replied curtly.
“Yes, of course I do,” Michael replied.
“Well then you should know shouldn’t you?”
“Yes, of course. I do, I do…”.
“So, what brought you back here?” asked Pauline. “You never really told us what you did down in the Smoke.”
“Oh, I just had this kind of opportunity, to er…” mumbled Michael.
“What was that?” asked John. “Could you speak up a little bit?”
“It was just, er …an opportunity for something. That’s all. Nothing important really…”
“Oh, well. Still, it’s good to see you back,” said Pauline.
“Yes, well.. How are you Pauline?”
“I’m fine. Still working at the library you know, or should I say, neighbourhood information and warm hub…”
“Good…that’s good…” Michael replied.
“Actually, talking of that, have either of you got a pen? I just need to write something down to remember for tomorrow at work.”
The letter
“Yeah, sure,” replied Michael. He fiddled in his pocket, taking a letter out, while searching for his pen. Michael put the letter to one side on the table in the middle of the room, which John happened to be sitting at. After a short search Michael found his pen and handed it over to Pauline. Meanwhile John had been peeking at the letter…
“That’s a very official looking letter, Michael,” John remarked with a sly smile. Flustered, Michael quickly grabbed the letter back.
“It’s nothing…..nothing to worry about…” Michael stuttered.
“Who said anybody was worried?” John replied, with a slight smirk.
“Are you OK, Michael?”, asked Pauline as Michael put the latter firmly back into his pocket.
“Yeah, sure, of course…” replied Michael.
“Well, that’s good to hear,” John commented with a triumphant look on his face.
“Yes, well…are you happy to be back home, Michael?” Pauline asked.
“Well, it’s nice to see you both and I might look up some friends, but…”
“But, what?” asked John.
“Well, you kinda get used to the south and when you come back up here… well it looks so…”
“Yes?”, asked Pauline and John in unison.
“Well, so shabby…compared to the south…”
“Really?” said John. “Well, you know where the Central Station is and you know where the A1(M) begins…”
“Look, I didn’t mean that in a bad way…”
“I would hate to hear you talk about it if you did…” countered John.
“Oh, look it’s just that you notice a… a difference…” replied Michael. “The south just seems, I don’t know… better, that’s all.”
“I completely agree… John replied slyly. “It always seems to get better investment.”
“Well, I still like the north,” Pauline chipped in. “Where’s your hills down in London? Where’s your waterfalls, your golden beaches, your quiet peaceful forests?”
“Well, as you know, there aren’t any in London. Perhaps it was just that it has been a rainy day up here today. Look I didn’t mean to…anyway. I have to be going. See you next week as planned then?”
“Yes, yes, see you then,” replied John. “I look forward to it…that’s if you’re still up here…”
“Alright, alright, I wish I hadn’t…”
“See you next week, Michael…” Pauline said.
“OK, see you both next week. Take care,” Michael said quietly and with that he got up and left.
John heard the door bang shut and then turned to Pauline, “Cheeky so-and-so isn’t he?”
“Well, he is always one for getting ahead, our Michael,” Pauline smiled. “Mind you, he might have a point you know…” Pauline’s smile disappeared to be replaced with a frown.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, nothing, I was just… nothing.”
“Mind, he went very funny about that letter, didn’t he?”
“Did you get a good look at it, John?”
“Not completely, but it looked well, as I said, very official…”
TO BE CONTINUED
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