We're Not Strangers Anymore

Chapter Fifteen - Jamie's Father

Charlie Broomer's alarm clock began to buzz relentlessly at six o'clock in the evening - he didn't need an alarm, in fact, going over to Jamie's house was a matter of great importance, and there was no way in hell that he'd forget. But for some reason, he had always been the forgetful type; so out of bed he climbed. He put his shoes on as quietly as he could, trying not to wake his sleeping mother.
'Shhh,' he whispered to himself as he threw on his navy blue jacket.
Carefully, he began to creep down the wooden stairs.
Creeeek
Each time he walked down a new step he pulled a fresh face as a result, wincing and silently moaning as the floorboards groaned. He unlocked the front door as carefully as he could, listening out for his mother's sleepy nattering. But there was nothing. Complete silence, except for the occasional snore.
Charlie shut the door cautiously, breathing a heavy a sigh of relief as the latch met the wooden frame.
The nighttime sky was dark, the street completely drowned in pitch black darkness bar two dim street lamps. He rubbed his hands together for warmth.
After five minutes of walking, a small red car passed him, frightening the absolute life out of him. He jumped and shook his head, anxious and embarrassed.
Well done, Charlie. You utter twat.
A few yards in front of him he could see the alleyway that led up to Jamie's street, a sign that brought him immense relief, joy, and a minor flashback. In this flashback he saw the dog in the garden, with it's teeth that could have very easily ripped into his and Jamie's flesh, ultimately leaving them lying there for dead. He had passed the corner shop a couple of minutes back, the very location where they had been tormented by the vicious Jack Hodges. Another flashback - this time he was there, truly immersed in a dreamlike state. His backpack was on the floor and so was his friend, lying on the stone cold pavement, waiting for a hate fuelled-beating. Jack was growling at the both of them, cocking his head back as if to spit in their bleeding faces. He quickly snapped out of it, jumping back into his previous state of reality just two minutes later.
He had managed to cut through the alleyway within a minute, topping his former record of four minutes when Jamie was by his side.
And now he was there. Standing at the top of the street, staring directly at the house. Charlie Broomer shuddered. Today it seemed as if the house was staring at him again, ready to open up and pounce on him at any given moment.
Now he was at the door, his heart beating fast.
What's behind that door?
Out of nowhere, there was a knock. A knock on the basement window.
Charlie ignored it, choosing to knock on the door instead. After three knocks, he heard a voice.
'Yes?'
It was Jamie's mother. That same voice as heard in the nightmare.
'Oh hi, is Jamie in, please?'
Silence.
'I said is Jamie there, please?'
Silence again.
Charlie turned away, pivoting on his heel.
He's not in. Must be staying with some other family.
As he reached the bottom step that led back down to the pavement, the door swung open. It was a man.
'Can I help you?'
Charlie was in complete shock.
This is him. The man I saw in the bad dream.
'Hello, yeah, I'm just looking for Jamie, is he around?'
The man poked his head out of the door and looked around, almost as if he was looking for someone or something.
'Jamie isn't very well at the moment, therefore we are not accepting visitors. But I'm his father, Mr Manley.'
He reached out with a long, skinny arm, and Charlie was convinced that he could see the veins bursting through Mr Manley's skin.
'But you can call me.. Martin.'
Charlie took his hand cautiously and shook it, making sure to shake it slowly.
'My name's Charlie. When will Jamie be okay again?'
Martin Manley frowned.
'Well my dear boy, I do believe that that is the very nature of the random illness. You never quite know how long an immune system will take to fight back, now do you?'
The strange man's creepy posh tones freaked Charlie out, and the hairs on the back of his neck were beginning to stand on end.
'Oh, that's fine then. Well give him my best wishes, I guess, I'll just speak to him tomorrow.'
His eyes didn't leave Charlie, not even once.
'Was there, perhaps.. another message that you wanted me to relay to him? Something more urgent, perhaps? Or were you just being a good friend and checking up on him, Charlie?'
He froze on the spot.
'Erm, no, no you're alright, it was just that. Was going to ask him if he wanted to come over to my house tonight, that's all.'
'Well, you see,' Martin began, stroking his face, 'he is very unwell, Charlie, and it wouldn't look very good to the academy if my Jamie was to walk the night-drenched streets, all whilst he was meant to be at school earlier today. Wouldn't you agree?'
What's this guy's deal?
'Yeah, I understand. Well as I say, pass on my wishes. Nice to meet you, anyway,' said Charlie, a wave of suspicion beginning to grow on both ends.
'Yes. You too.'
Mr Manley shut the door and Charlie proceeded down the wooden steps, confused and full of questions.
What is up with that guy? I mean, I know Jamie keeps his distance and all, and I can sort of see why, but what's going on? And why didn't his Mum answer the door instead, why was Jamie's Dad just waiting behind the door?
These questions came and left within minutes of Charlie thinking them - rainfall had started to batter the pavement that he walked upon, and after half an hour had passed he was tucked up in bed. Safe and sound, scared; but by no means alone.