SMOKE GETS IN YOUR EYES
Stephen E Pennykid
Copyright 2012 by Stephen E Pennykid
Smashwords Edition
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SMOKE GETS IN YOUR EYES
The letter had arrived two days before, from a father she thought had
loved her. Due to circumstances beyond her control, he'd abandoned
her and moved to Spain. The contents of the letter had been
startling. She would have to re-read it and look again at the enclosed
photographs because she still couldn't believe her eyes.
Now as she settled herself down in her favourite chair with a cup of
tea she realised that decisions would have to be made. Taking the
letter from the envelope she started to read...
Dear Jenny
I hope you will contact me if you receive this letter. When I was in the
Loughborough area recently I found this address in the telephone
directory. It's been five years since I've been in touch but I'm writing
because the strangest thing has happened, and I believe it's what
your mother would have wanted.
When she died ten years ago my whole world ended. We had
numerous common interests, particularly the trips to various steam
railways, and, as you know, especially our membership of the local
Great Central Railway in Loughborough.
It had amazed me when your mother suggested we join the Great
Central membership. Admittedly the line ran at the bottom of the
garden and she would watch the trail of smoke from the trains as
they passed. Your mother told me that whenever she felt stressed,
watching the smoke in the distance would calm her down.
Jenny broke off from reading. Memories of her early life in the
Swithland house came flooding back and she remembered the long
rear garden running down to the railway cutting. She looked at the
photograph of her parents, her mother staring into the camera, long
blond hair, stylish trouser suit over a slim figure. Although she had
inherited the blonde hair, her figure was slightly fuller.
Looking back, her childhood had seemed idyllic. Her father was in a
senior
management
post
at
Brush
Electrical
Machines
in
Loughborough, whilst her mother had returned to her lecturing
position at Loughborough University shortly after her birth. Their joint
incomes enabled them to lead a contented life.
She had been privately educated in Loughborough. Before she
started school and then during the school holidays her grandmother
had looked after her. Following her grandfather's death, her
grandmother had moved into a self-contained flat within the main
house.
Jenny had fond memories of her time with her grandmother. A lively,
attractive lady, full of fun, she would take Jenny into Loughborough
market every Thursday , buying fresh fruit and vegetables and
always finding something for Jenny to take home with her. Once
Jenny had started school, Saturdays would be the time for the
market visit with her grandmother, whilst her parents would wander
off to the nearby Great Central Railway Station. A strong, loving bond
grew between them, only to be broken on her grandmother's death,
soon after Jenny started at Loughborough University.
Her thoughts returned to the present day as she looked at the
photograph of her parents. Her father looked so distinguished in his
well-tailored suit. Standing over six feet tall, of slim build with his
thick, black, collar-length wavy hair, Jenny could tell from the look on
his face how much he adored her mother.
Picking up the letter again, Jenny resumed reading.
When that idiot drunken driver killed your mother, you pulled both of
us through the worst time of our lives. The ordeal of the trial and the
inadequate sentence for the killer tore me to pieces. Through your
strength you made me realise that your mother would not have
wanted me to throw my life away.
It was your suggestion that I went to study Spanish at night classes.
The family holidays in Spain had been some of the best times
together and I found that I picked up the language fairly easily.
Those lessons together with the complexities of my work brought me
through my darkest moments.
I can't begin to describe to you the shock and anger I felt when you
told me you had been seeing Vince, the son of the driver who killed
your mother. Worse still, that you had been friends with him for some
time and were now going to live together. Although I had been
starting to come to terms with your mother's death, this news just set
me back to my original state of mind.
It's funny how coincidences happen, but almost immediately, I was
offered early retirement with full pension. There didn't seem to be
anything to keep me in England and I had found a kind of peace on
my now solo holidays in Spain. Following our argument, I thought
that moving out here was the best action to take. I know I should
have discussed my plans with you but I was so angry. I thought as
long as I let you know before I left, that would be enough.
Jenny thought back to the trial. The driver had shown no remorse.
Over the six days of the trial she had noticed a tall striking young
man following events with rapt attention. He would occasionally
shake his head as incriminating evidence was presented. When he
turned his head towards her she would instinctively look away, but
she had the feeling that he had noticed her interest.
The guilty verdict, although seemingly a formality, still brought gasps
from the area of the court where the young man sat. As the judge
passed sentence, Jenny could see the look of despair in the young
man's eyes. Her father was on his feet shouting 'it's not enough'
before she could calm him down.
Over the next few months life returned to as normal as was possible.
Jenny looked after her father as best she could. Her studies at
University had been put on hold, but now she was back in the same
routine as before. Her life seemed to consist of working towards her
degree with very little free time.
Her thoughts moved on two years to the Graduation ceremony. Her
father looking so proud of her on that sunny July day.
Jenny had always been interested in working with children and
following her graduation, her father had helped her financially to set
up a day nursery business. Within 18 months the business was
flourishing.,. Everything had seemed to be going right for her until
that fateful evening she had met Vince.
Occasionally Jenny would meet up with some old school friends and
they would head for a night out in Loughborough...She had met
Vince on one of those evenings The mutual attraction had been
instant.
Jenny realised that she had been lost in her thoughts and had let her
tea go cold. After reheating it in the microwave, she settled down
again, her eyes returning to the photographs. She could still barely
take it in.
Even after my move to Spain I maintained my subscription to the
GCR Society. I kept in touch with friends back in Loughborough and
they came over and stayed with me fairly regularly. They
occasionally sent me out the local newspaper and I also stayed in
touch with local events via the internet.
I had read a news item about the testing of a newly constructed
steam engine on the Great Central. It would be ideal to combine a
visit to my friends with one to the railway. My friends insisted I stay
with them in return for my hospitality.
Arriving back at East Midlands Airport reminded me of the holidays
we used to take as a family. My friends Martin and Linda were
waiting for me. I had purposely travelled on the Friday so that I could
visit the Great Central the following day.
Saturday morning I drove to Loughborough station where I
purchased my ticket. I had decided to travel to Leicester North and
then return to Loughborough. Twenty minutes later the train slowly
pulled out of the station.
By the time the train arrived at Rothley I was deep in conversation
with Huw, a steam enthusiast from Wales. It was his first visit to the
GCR. The views across Swithland Reservoir were as stunning as I
had remembered and I pointed out where we used to live to Huw.
The remainder of the journey to Leicester North and then back to
Loughborough was uneventful. I had taken photographs at the
various stations to compare them with my existing photographs here
in Spain.
As the train approached Loughborough Station I leant out of the
carriage window to take photographs of the approach. Immediately
the train stopped at the platform I got out looking for photo
opportunities. The engine was partly obscured by steam, a true
railway photograph if ever there was one.
That night back at my friend's house I was showing them the
photographs and was especially looking forward to their opinion of
the steam obscured locomotive. When I looked at it, there appeared
to be a mark in the centre of the photo. I mentioned it to Martin and
Linda, but they couldn't see anything. Martin suggested downloading
the photo on to his computer and enlarging it.
Ten minutes later we peered at the enlarged photograph on the
screen. There in the centre of the steam was your mother's face. I
could see it as clear as if she were standing next to me. Not wishing
to commit myself I commented that the picture was really clear. They
agreed and I knew that they really couldn't see anything. Martin
closed the computer down and asked if there was anything special I
was doing the next day. I told him I would probably visit the railway
again.
The next morning I repeated Saturday's journey, taking photographs
at the same locations. Stepping out of the carriage I took the same
photo with the engine partially covered by steam. Although not
identical to Saturday's photo I still wanted to see the enlarged
version.
It would have been easy for me to ask Martin to hook the camera up
to the television but I wasn't sure that I could contain myself if the
photo showed your mother's face again.
The next few days in England passed quickly and uneventfully, and
on the Tuesday I boarded the plane back to Spain from the East
Midlands Airport.
I have to tell you that the second photo did show your mother's face
in the steam. I've shown the photo to neighbours in Spain and noone has made any comments. I even asked a couple of close friends
if there were any marks or blemishes and they commented how
sharp the detail was.
You will see that I have enclosed copies of the photos. Please
contact me to tell me whether you see the same as me. I feel that I
may be losing my mind but if you do see your mother, then there
must be another explanation.
Jenny put the letter down and looked at the enlarged photographs
again. There in the steam on both photos was her mother's
concerned face.
She knew she would have to telephone her father. He had written his
number on the back of both photographs. A lot had happened since
they had parted on such dreadful terms. Her first few months with
Vince had been idyllic. However, as time passed she had noticed
him starting to drink. When she had challenged him he had replied
that he could control it.
The incident that finally convinced Jenny that she couldn't change
him, happened after a night out with friends. Vince had consumed a
lot of alcohol and on arriving home demanded that Jenny make him
beans on toast. When Jenny refused, he had hit her. She lost her
footing and fell into the door, cutting her ear. Although only a
superficial wound there was blood all over the new dress she had
bought specially for the evening. Running up the stairs she locked
herself in the bathroom, cleaning herself up before deciding to
shower.
Jenny had eventually slept in the spare room, and early next
morning had packed her cases and left. She had driven to work
arriving before anyone else. The day nursery had a small service flat
on the first floor. It would be ideal as a temporary base whilst she
decided on her course of action. Fortunately she had kept her
finances separate, so money was not a problem.
The break-up with Vince over the next few months had been
amicable. Vince seemed relieved that the pretence was over and
agreed to sell the flat and share the proceeds.
It was approximately six weeks after the break-up that Jenny started
to feel, not unwell, but different. A colleague at the nursery had
remarked how radiant she looked. A pregnancy testing kit followed
by a visit to her doctor soon confirmed that she was indeed
pregnant. Jenny agonised over whether to let Vince know but
something held her back. She had heard from friends that he was
drinking heavily and took little pride in his appearance.
The months passed and following her initial shock realised that she
couldn't be happier. The thought of nurturing her own baby filled her
with delight.
They say a happy mother leads to a contented baby and that is
exactly how it transpired. Jenny delivered a seven pounds, six
ounce, blond haired baby girl whom she named Annie after her
mother. Annie was no trouble and Jenny was able to resume part
time work at the Day Nursery within weeks of the birth and full-time
only a few months later.
Jenny looked across the room to where Annie was taking a nap. She
was three years old now and already a veteran at the nursery. If she
telephoned her father, how could she break the news to him that he
was a grandfather? Would it bring them back together or would it
drive a wedge even further between them? At least she could tell him
that she had split from Vince.
She looked at the photographs again. It was definitely her mother's
face in the steam. Was it her imagination or was she smiling now?
Steeling herself she picked up the phone and dialled her father's
number. On the third ring he answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi Dad, it's me, Jenny.”
“Jenny! It's so wonderful to hear your voice.”
Jenny looked again at the photographs as she started talking to her
father. Her mother's face no longer appeared in the steam...
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