7       Jack dreams of Dan

  Jack's older brother, Dan

Art :Gloria Dexter

Closing his eyes, he listened to her footsteps on the bare cold floor. Gently, he started snoring, hoping she would think him asleep and leave him alone. The thin mattress sagged when she sat next to him. He smelled his mother’s perfume, the one she wore for best.

“I know you’re not asleep, love.”

Cautiously, he opened his eyes. “Mum?”

“I’m here.” She stroked his forehead.

He sat up, throwing himself into her arms, “How did you find me?”

Even as he spoke, he knew this was not his mother. She would never find him here.

“My lovely, Dan.”

Jack was shocked hearing her call him Dan. This was no dream. He saw what Dan saw, locked in his prison hundreds of miles away.

Whoever was pretending to be his mother sensed his doubt. Her voice slipped to no more than a pale imitation. “I am what you remember. If you see me, hear me, feel my touch. What is the difference?”

“It is different. Just is, that’s all.” Jack heard Dan shout.

“I can give her back. She will never change; never grow old or ill, never busy. Everything the same. Always.”

“Liar. It’s not the same.”

You tell her, Dan, thought Jack.

“It is if you want.”

Sadness weighed down her voice. Hugging him fiercely, she stroked his hair. There was a terrible heat burning in her. She kissed him on the mouth, hot dry lips tasting of chocolate. Disgusted, he pulled away.

“You’re not my mum.”

She was gone. Only her silver voice remained, hung with echoes of mournful bells, as she complained, “I only want to love and be loved in return.”

Jack Hughes & Thomas the Rhymer

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