Heavensgate - Joy E-Book

Leo Kane

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Death is obsessed with her. Angels adore her. Evil desires her.

Joy, the unloved child of the local virgin miraculously resurrects years after drowning in the North Sea. Everyone craves her company, but no-one remembers her for more than a fleeting moment.

Stalked by Death, Joy becomes trapped in Heavensgate, where she falls victim to the demonic supernatural, Jake. She is willing to sacrifice her immortal soul for his love. He wants to defile and destroy her.

Can she escape Heavensgate, or will the Beast steal Joy from the Mortal Realm?

Leseprobe

Heavensgate - Joy

Heavensgate Book 2

Leo Kane

Copyright (C) 2015 Leo Kane

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2021 by Next Chapter

Published 2021 by Next Chapter

Cover art by Lordan June Pinote

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

To Cheryl, Faye and Rachael, my beloved daughters, I experienced the true meaning of joy the first time I held you in my arms. In this life and the next the joy of you will never leave me.

Did you discover wonderment inside a yearning? A change in your atmosphere Was there an ease inside your hurting? when you found joy inside a fear Throw a hate into the pond… throw a wish to sink it down You had an affair with the beyond without ever making a sound Found love with the eclipse A fear with a half moon can you touch a stranger with a kiss? To hatred you become immune I wish to let us imitate reality chase the dragons from our dreams Show me your gift of immortality walk the stars so we may trap the beams

Naomi S Porch, 2015

'Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.” But I say unto you they are inseparable. Together they come, and when one sits with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.'

Khalil Gilbran, The Prophet

'Spes anchora vitae' 'Hope is the anchor of my life.'

Joy

Chapter One

-THE END OF THE BEGINNING-

Jacob fought for every agonising breath as the anguished voice of his alter-ego, Jake, screamed in his head,

Listen to me, Jacob. Go to sleep, let me out and I will save us. Let me the fuck out man.

Jacob clutched his chest, pleading with the beautiful apparition, `No please, don't. I don't want to see it; please don't make me look.'

Stop begging and fight her man, fight her. For sweet fuck's sake let me out, Jacob.

Relentless, cruel time, counted down the slow thud of Jacob's heart as he collapsed to the floor. His last seconds marched into eternity as he suffered crushing overwhelming pain.

Give us our fucking heart back, bitch.

Merciless needles travelled down Jacob's left arm, stitching him into oblivion.

This fuckin' hurts man; it's fuckin' killing us. Let me out.

She stood over Jacob, long silver hair flowing around her body as if she floated underwater; her arms stretched out to him with her bony white hands cupped open revealing her treasure. Jacob lay gasping like a fish on a cruel hook, tears streaming from his eyes. He knew it was over.

Don't you dare fuckin' look in her hands, Jacob, or I swear on Satan's shit I will kill you myself.

Jacob saw it, nestling and beating in her palms, a misshapen, brown, wet, muddy heart, initialed with a childish `J'.

The vision spoke, her words resonating in his mind like gently chiming bells ringing out his soul, `See you soon, sweetie. I have your heart in my hands.'

Hope. Oh fuck. Jacob, it's Hope. Don't leave me, Jacob. Nooooooooo.

Chapter Two

-THE GATE-

Heavensgate glowed like an oasis in the firmament. To human eyes it might appear as a bright, delicate, candle flame burning inside a snow globe, but no living human would ever pass this way. Profound darkness surrounded the Gate and the silent universe swept over it on a tsunami of stars. It had been an age since the Angels were summoned here and Heavensgate's combination of eternal and earthly beauty dazzled them. Even so, they would rather be far away from this place.

Death had commanded the immortals to attend a special passing.

The Angel Redemption waited with Hope in angry silence. Gabriel balked at the last moment and turned to flee, reluctant to enter the Realm of Inbetween, until his Lord took his hand and, as all must do when touched by Death, the Angel became serene.

In the Lodge at Heavensgate, the immortals congregated around Jacob Andersen's almost, but not quite, empty body.

Hope threw Death a petulant glance. She floated back and forth as if blown by an invisible breeze, tapping her sharp little teeth with translucent finger nails. Hidden inside her robe, she wore a fine silver chain from which hung a small, withered, black heart. Her icy tears fell onto the corpse as her voice rang out in sorrow saying, `I have played my part in this vile event. What is the delay?'

Death declined to reply, drilling into her spirit with eyes that spun galaxies until she added, `I beg your indulgence, my Lord.'

Redemption bowed in deference to Lord Death and nodded a greeting at Gabriel. The fiery Angel waited, pretending patience, dressed in her faded, red cloak. It was an item of clothing Gabriel thought belonged in the Middle Ages. The pale Angel stared at Jacob's body, his expression mournful, biting pink manicured nails. Together, the four Guardians of the Gate bore witness as they waited for the life story to conclude.

Louise knelt by her husband's cooling body. She pinched his nose and breathed living air between his indigo lips, repeatedly pressing hard on his still chest. She prayed, `Please God don't take him from me. Jacob, my love, breathe for me, baby. Oh God, no no nooooo.'

Death glanced at his pocket watch as the melody `Que Sera, Sera' drifted into the air, the notes discordant and tinny.

-What a lot fuss. If I could I would plug my ears from this cacophony of anguish.-

Hope cursed him under her breath.

Inexorable as the tide Death moved toward the mortals. Hope wept, comforted by Gabriel, who fought to control an embarrassing nervous tic as he wrapped his silken opaque wings around her. Redemption glanced at them and sighed in annoyance before disappearing further into the cloak's soft folds to watch Death's starlit hand assist the departure of Jacob's spirit.

Hope sobbed louder and the melancholy knell of funeral bells clanged and crashed in the air around them. The noise broke Redemption's fragile tolerance and she snapped, `Hope, give it up. You had your chance with this mortal. Maybe if you had kept your rampant libido in check this wouldn't be happening.'

Hope broke away from Gabriel's hug and turned on Redemption, her eyes flashing ice. She choked back her retort as the immortals witnessed a second spirit that rose like oily smoke from the cooling cadaver's mouth.

Gabriel fluttered long, jewel-studded lashes at Death, a question in his eyes. Death shrugged. The appearance of the demon was of no immediate interest. His duty was to lead Jacob's soul through the Gate.

The shade took form as Gabriel asked Hope, `Did you know there were two spirits in there?'

Flashing across the short space between them the apparition towered in a black funnel in front of Hope, cutting off her reply and wrapping her in the stench of burning flesh. Gabriel ran to hide behind Redemption who sneered at him mouthing, `Coward.' He didn't care, his aura quivered in warning.

Hope stopped weeping. She watched, intrigued as the apparition spun and coalesced until it took the form of a man. In a jangling voice she said, `Jake, is that you?'

The spirit screamed in terrible pain and anguish and, employing the menace of Hell to give it voice, shouted,

WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED HERE?

Something akin to human pity flitted across Hope's ancient gray eyes as she said, `What just happened here, Jake, is I saved him from you.'

Fuck you Hope, bring Jacob back.

`It's not in my power, Jake.'

Hope, either bring Jacob back or fuckin' take me away from this hell. I can't survive without the stupid bastard; you gotta take us both together.

Redemption threw back her cloak and exploded in a blaze of freezing red light, blinding Jake who flinched, passing an arm before his eyes like a shield. Gabriel admired Redemption's magnificence from a distance, awestruck.

Jake threw his shade on top of Jacob's body in an attempt to re-enter it and fell through the cooling flesh to disappear under the floor. He returned confused and discouraged, to face Redemption who asked,

`Jake, are you ready to repent?'

Repent? What the fuck for?

`Then the Gate refuses entry to you and your fragments, Demon.'

I am not a demon. I have no fragments. My name is Jake Andersen and that thing on the floor is my body, which I need. So put me and Jacob back in it or take me with him.

-We refuse you, Demon. You may not pass through the Gate without our blessing.-

Jake whined, You can't do this to me.

Redemption took pity. `Jake, I invite you to repent the murders, the rapes, the lies and the illusions which you used Jacob's mind and body for.'

Jake stamped his feet crying, I did it all so he wouldn't have to. He wanted me to do those things, he was a yellow-bellied coward. He used me.

Death's voice crashed through Jake's spirit like thunder.

-No, you unrepentant, misbegotten son of the Devil, you used Jacob to commit evil. You will not cross the Gate. The honour must be earned. Demon, you have much soul work to do if you wish to leave here.-

Jake moaned, It isn't fair. Why won't you help me?

Hope turned her lovely face away from the tortured ghost.

The fragment known as Jake tipped its head to one side as if listening to a voice only he could hear. He clicked his fingers and grinned at Death who snarled and shielded his immortals behind him. The Guardians watched, helpless as Jake's shadow grew vibrant, attaining the appearance of a healthy man in his prime. Jake flexed muscular shoulders, punched the air and shouted, Thank you, my Lord.

No longer afraid or pleading he smiled and taking Hope's hands in his, said,

My Lord has spoken and now I understand. I'm free of that streak of chicken shit yellow bellied sonofabitch. I am free of Saint fuckin' Jacob. Join me, Hope.

Hope stretched her lips and ran her tongue over her teeth. Her voice clanged like broken bells as, staring unflinching into Jake's astounding jade eyes, she said, `Your soul is free to seek Redemption. Don't waste any more time.'

Jake embraced her. Stay with me, Hope. I love you. It was always me who loved you. Jacob was never man enough. Stay and help me to learn how to repent. Hope, I need you.

She struggled out of his arms to reply, `You are not a man. You belong to your dark lord, the Beast. You lost me long ago.'

Jake bowed low, mocking her, then straightening up he spat in her face and shouted, Well fuck you too, my Lady, you prick-teasing bitch.

A sly look crept across his handsome face as he strutted over to Death and stared with unflinching insolence into his star filled eyes. Gabriel moaned and grabbed hold of Redemption, who stood glaring at Hope with disgust distorting her striking features.

Jake crowed like a lunatic.

So, all powerful Reaper, tell me, as Jacob has gone, am I right in thinking that Heavensgate, the Lodge, Lake Disregard, the town, everything, all of this is mine?

He spread his arms wide and spun around on the spot leaving smoke rings in his wake.

Death was bored with the game.

-Demon, this Realm exists for every soul granted the misfortune or opportunity to pass through. Kneel and thank the Creator for your place at Heavensgate. Don't waste your remarkable good fortune.-

Oh I won't. Thanks for the advice, fucker.

-Do no more harm. I wish you remorse, repentance and redemption.-

Why does that sound like a curse?

-It will be what you make it.-

Wait. Listen, please. The twins, Nancy and Sam, they died, but I swear that when they were in their coffins they looked at me. Hope, they looked at me as if they hated me. It wasn't my fault, the fire… it was not my fault!

With reluctant compassion Hope replied, `The fire was your doing, Jake, however, it is understood there was no intent to do harm. Have faith in the truth and start from there. I will know when you are ready. Look.'

Fuck off, I saw what you just did to Jacob. I won't look. No.

-I command you, Demon, to look at my Lady.-

Jake's eyes refused to close as his head turned of its own accord forcing his gaze to fix on Hope.

She reached into her gown, pulling out the chain to reveal the blackened and misshapen heart that hung there. It was weak, it was damaged, but it was beating. Hope's voice rang sharp in his head as she said, `We will meet again, Jake. Your heart will tell me when you are ready.'

Chapter Three

-HOME COMING-

The Guardian opened the Gate releasing delicate light that illuminated the immortal gathering. Death beckoned to a waiting female spirit whose love for the dead man shone bright as a newly forged sword.

-Come, Annie, reclaim your son.-

She stepped forward, excited and smiling until Jake dropped to the floor and crawled toward her. A sick mewling sound issued from his throat as he attempted to kiss her feet. Sounding as sincere as the devil he said, Mom, I love you.

Annie's spirit wavered as she cried out, `You are not my son. You are a child of fire and hate, a parasite on this place and on Jacob's soul. I command you, Demon, to leave him now.'

Jake leaped to his feet screaming, Well fuck you too, you old cumbag.

Annie raised her hand as if to strike him, but let it fall to her side and said, `I forgive you.'

Jake opened his mouth to reply when they heard a child's sweet voice ask, `Momma? Have you come for me, Momma?'

Annie and Jake fell to their knees before Jacob's soul which had assumed his seven year old form. Jake held out his arms to the boy and begged,

Jacky. Please don't leave me. We are the same person. Stay with me.

Fighting tears of joy, Annie spoke to her beloved son, saying, `Look, Daddy's here, sweetheart. Come to momma, it's time to leave.'

Jon Andersen, once again a young husband and father, bent to tickle his son under the chin and, in a voice gruff with emotion, said, `Jacky, you're safe now. You want to climb up, eh?'

The child laughed with excitement as Jon raised him onto his broad shoulders. With Annie at his side, they ignored Jake's screams and wails and walked back through the Gate. As they passed over Jon jiggled his hips from side to side, singing, `I'm your Boogie Man' creating fits of giggles in Jacky who wrapped small fingers into his father's hair, his eyes wide with wonder as he spotted his brother and sister playing on the other side.

Jake crawled over to Jacob's cooling corpse to sit beside the silently weeping, oblivious and recently widowed Louise. He snarled at her saying,

I preferred Susie to you, you cold hearted bitch. Why aren't you dead? Where's Tommy? What is going on here? I hate this fuckin' hell hole.

Louise shivered as Jake's invisible rage washed over her raising goosebumps on her flesh. Realising it was time to call 911 she rose on stiff legs to end the heartbroken vigil over her husband's body. Jake glared at her retreating back.

That's right, fuck off and leave us, we don't need you.

Holding Jacob's hand he rocked and keened.

It's not fair, Jacob, I want to go with you. Come back for me.

Sometime later, the paramedics comforted Louise and collected Jacob's body. Darkness enveloped Jake's anguish transporting him into the Nothing where the Beast welcomed him home with great celebration and affection.

The empty Lodge settled down to wait.

Death placed an elegant arm across Gabriel's shoulders. Hugging him to his side and kissing the top of his dark head, he said,

-Close the Gate, my Angel. In a multi-verse of astounding events this has to be one of my personal favourites.-

Gabriel's wings and eyelashes fluttered under Death's rare praise. He clasped his hands and began the chant that would seal the Gate. It clashed closed with the sound of a million cymbals, sparking thunder and lightning. The cacophony rode a sound wave that birthed an avalanche high in the Sierra's majestic peaks. A tsunami of snow pushed the wind before it, blasting the slender tops of thousands of pine trees that bent their heads as if in prayer or mourning. The same almighty force pressed Lake Disregard's water back from the shore, revealing emptiness darker than the vacuum of space. Redemption applauded. Death called out,

-Bravo, Gabriel. Magnificent as ever.-

Hope waited for the spectacle to end and drew closer to Death. Her seductive voice chimed as she asked, `My Lord, is the demon, Jake, to be denied passage through the Gate for all eternity?'

-I am not privy to the Creator's plans for such abominations. However,-

Death loomed over Hope, his soft voice holding a thinly concealed threat as he said, there is a matter of greater import that I must discuss with you, my Lady.-

Hope glanced at Redemption, who threw her a sarcastic smile while Gabriel chewed his finger nails.

-The stalemate between Joy and I must come to an end. Hope, you will return her heart and bring her spirit to me without question or argument. You are not to rescue Joy from her destiny. Be the nothingness; be without substance; be without influence. Do not interfere again. No more excuses. Obey my command.-

Hope's voice chimed uncertainly as she said, `My Lord, what if I cannot return her heart and, therefore, cannot obey your command?'

Death sighed and replied,

-All souls choose their path and if they stray it is our immortal duty to guide them home. It is your duty, Hope, to play your part. Return Joy's heart or suffer the consequences.-

Redemption wrapped herself tightly in her cloak, nodding in solemn agreement and amusement as Gabriel pretended not to hear the exchange and busied himself preening his feathers.

As is her nature, Hope could not let the matter rest. She pressed Death further, asking, `What will Joy have left if I refuse to give her my gift of hope, my Lord?'

Death's voice thickened the atmosphere with menace as he said,

-You test my patience, Lady. Joy is not mortal, you know this. She chose this reincarnation to remind her spirit of human despair and sorrow. Her purpose was to gain empathy in order that she may help multitudes of souls to appreciate the fleeting euphoria of happiness.-

Hope huffed saying, `That is torture.'

Exasperated, Death grasped Hope by her shoulders and, controlling his temper, said,

-Joy chose her path. This is the last time I will remind you, Lady Hope, to stop meddling in her journey. She strayed once before, and she is ripe and ready to stray again.-

Hope gazed into his eyes and said, `Sweet Lord, she was a child.'

Death thrust her away from him. Redemption snorted with derision as Hope stumbled.

-Enough! Joywasa child, she is one no longer. She must fulfill her destiny, as must every soul. You, Lady Hope, will cease to question the Creator's plans.-

`I will, in a moment.' Hope recovered her composure and flashed a rare smile Death's way as she pressed on asking, `What is the Creator planning for Jake?'

Death stood clenching and unclenching his fists. Frustrated and bewitched in equal measure, he struggled to deny Hope an answer.

-Jake is of the Demon kind. He was a mere fragment of Jacob Andersen's human life. The personality cannot be considered alive in the human sense. It is damaged, irretrievably wounded. Nothing good can survive it.-

Hope shone icy blue as she told him, `My Lord, I witnessed their suffering. Jacob is free but the Beast's sickness feeds on Jake's fragmented soul like cancer. He is weary beyond endurance and…'

-Andwhat insignificant scrap of `humanity' and life remains in the demon is fortunate that you, Hope, stole its black heart.-

Hope rallied and retorted, `I am not to blame for this. When I collected Jacob's heart I could not have known the demon had him. I fulfilled my duty to bring hope to a child whose heart was intent on killing him with grief. My Lord.'

-Irrelevant. You interfered with destiny and you continue to meddle.-

Gabriel found his courage and purred, `Where there is life there is Hope and vice versa. Isn't that so, my Lord?'

Death scoffed at him.

-Believe what you will, Gabriel. My Lady will obey me.-

Redemption scowled in disbelief as Hope bowed her head before her Lord saying, `Please forgive my impertinence, my Lord. I adore you.'

-I do not require adoration. I demand obedience. Leave this place. We have work to do.-

Chapter Four

-ENGLAND, 1983-

In the living room of a stone-built cottage at the English seaside, brown and yellow floral curtains were pulled tight across the leaded window to hide the occupants from prying eyes.

Joy sat ramrod straight on the wreck of a stained sagging sofa, afraid to make the slightest noise and chewing her fingernails until they bled. The child was forced to keep her place and face forward; she was their audience.

Eight year old Joy knew her dad wasn't the real danger, her mother, Glenda, known in the village as Madonna, was the greater threat, the parent to be most feared and best avoided. Glenda was the one who relished reminding Joy that she was forced upon her; the one who ensured her daughter understood that she was unwanted, unloved and useless. This was the woman who gathered Joy on her lap for `story time', held her close and made her look up the word `abortion' in the dictionary.

The adults fought and Joy watched. Glenda and Ken faced each other in the cramped room, their bodies leaning forward, bouncing on their toes like boxers. Their features distorted with hate, reminding Joy of the gargoyles that decorated the church, as they hurled abuse and threats like poison darts intended to wound and disable the strongest of loves and their love didn't come close.

Ken grabbed Glenda by her skinny throat, his spittle flying in her eyes as he screamed, `Don't fight me, Madonna. Don't you fucking move, bitch. I'm warning you, if you want to see tomorrow, don't…even…breathe.'

Seeing compliance in her eyes, he released his grip and stood before his wife with his hands rested on his knees, panting as if he had run a marathon. Glenda, her neck branded where the fingers of the man she chose to love, honour and cherish had throttled her, stood immobile as a royal guard on sentry duty. Ken picked up a bottle of vodka, took a swig and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before slapping his wife across her vacant face and shouting, `Do you even care how your Virgin Mary act makes me feel, eh? Do you?'

Having no more nails to go at, Joy sucked a loose strand of hair as she witnessed a short cessation of hostilities while her parents gathered strength for round two. This was a routine the three of them knew well and each one played their part to perfection.

Ken was ready to go again. He snarled, `Let's see what a bloody Holy Virgin looks like.' A flush of shame rose unchecked from Joy's chest to her cheeks as her father struggled with Glenda's clothes, fighting reluctant zips, hooks and sleeves. He spewed foul, spiteful curses as seams ripped and buttons flew. Her mother moved only to raise her arms and legs to facilitate the brutal stripping. She didn't protest or make any attempt to resist. Joy wanted her Mum to fight back; she never did. Glenda saved her pain and anger for her small daughter.

Joy stared at a stain on the wall, every muscle tense and aching as she waited for this latest episode of marital madness to escalate. Ken loomed over her shouting, `Look girl. See what happens to whores that parade themselves as pure. Take a bloody good look and never, ever forget this.'

He bundled up his wife's clothes and flung them into the open fire where hungry flames licked and tasted the meal before devouring it whole. Glenda waited naked, gaunt and albino-white apart from the multi-coloured bruises on her torso. Ken's wiry body shook with self-righteous fury as he prodded the burning rags with an iron poker then left it to rest in the fire. Joy's stomach clenched and tears began to fall as she watched him wait for the moment that it would glow red hot.

Ken looked at his small daughter who struggled to control her shakes and said, `I'm doing this for you, Joy. It's my job to protect you. Your pure virginal mummy should keep her mouth shut. The lying bitch will get you crucified one day.'

The poker glowed amongst the coals. It was time. Glenda shuddered. Joy accidentally caught her mother's eye as she heard the trickle of urine running onto the carpet. Glenda threw her a vicious smile and Joy dragged her eyes away, trembling inside and out. She needed to get away and hide before she was made to pay in hair and skin for her `lack of respect.'

She risked closing her stinging eyes as Ken raised the poker in front of her mother's exquisite face. His voice relaxed and gentle, he said, `You choose the spot, Madonna, or I must.'

Joy held her breath; her heart beat like a trapped bird behind her ribs. Anticipation made her retch. Glenda held out her left forearm, supporting her elbow on the palm of her right hand. She steeled herself as the man she had loved and trusted with her life carefully positioned the searing hot metal across an unhealed wound.

The smell of burning flesh filled the cottage, followed by a sickening crack as Glenda's head hit the tiled hearth. Scarlet blood trickled to join the urine on the carpet. Brandishing the poker, Ken turned his attention on Joy snarling, `Get upstairs, you little bitch, while I take care of your poor sick mother.'

She sidled past him on weak legs, head down and arms crossed protectively in front of her frail body. Out of his reach, she pelted up the steep narrow stairs as if pursued by the hounds of hell. She crashed into her bedroom and shot under the bed where she lay, trembling like a sapling in a storm.

Downstairs, her father, sweating booze and choking on his crocodile tears, dropped the poker and used his bare hands to bat out the flame that licked at Glenda's hair. He picked up his wife and carried her naked violated body to the couch where he sobbed out his self-pity saying, `Why do you make me do this, Glenda? Why? You know how much I love you, lass.' Then he unzipped his jeans and pissed on her face.

Chapter Five

-SPES ANCHORA VITAE-

Joy waited long enough to be confident that her father had passed out drunk before daring to leave the flimsy shelter of her hiding place. She stared at her reflection in the tall mirror; had an idea and walked toward it with her skinny arms stretched out before her. Rare tears streaked down her face as she begged, `Please let me in magic mirror, please, please let me in.' Her tiny fingers knocked against the unrelenting glass.

Joy wasn't surprised when the mirror didn't help her. After all, it was the same one her mother would stand Joy in front of, naked, and say, `Mirror, mirror on the wall who is the ugliest girl of all?' Glenda would pretend to listen as the mirror answered her before saying in an offended tone, `You are right mirror. It is Joy, she is the ugliest of them all.' Glenda would then take her time to point out her shamed daughter's ugliness in the mirror, inch by inch.

The humiliation would only end when Joy forced out the hated words, `I'm sorry I ruined your life, Mother. I'm sorry I offend you and the mirror.' Satisfied, Glenda would say, `Stay here and think about how your badness and ugliness hurt me.' Sometimes she would spit on Joy as she left. Other times she would nurse her and sing `There Once Was an Ugly Duckling' while she rocked Joy on her knees and stroked her hair. Those times were the most terrifying of all.

For as long as Joy could remember, life had been frightening. She lived in dread that her alcoholic father would find her in one of her secret hidey holes or, worse still, that her mother would beat him to it.

She was habitually locked in the cellar `for your own good', where she huddled trembling in the coal dust, listening in clinging darkness to foul words fly like knives across the room above her head. She never cried. She refused to cry, even when her mother beat her black and blue, even when she tore chunks out of her hair, screaming, `You vain little whore.'

When Glenda nipped the tender skin behind Joy's knees and at her inner thigh, the pain made the child heave and retch, but she never allowed a single tear to fall.

After Joy was forced to spend sleepless hours on the cold, earthen, cellar floor Glenda would shake her awake as weak sunlight crept through the coal grate overhead. On those mornings, Joy was dragged by her hair up the worn stone steps and into the kitchen. Her mother made the exhausted child stand naked in a plastic bowl full of tepid water where she was scrubbed red raw until her father said, `That's enough Glenda, the little whore looks all shiny and new. You can dress her now'.

`There you are, my ugly duckling, all fresh out of the packet,' Glenda would say after brushing Joy's long blonde hair one hundred times while her father polished her school shoes with his spit, singing and whistling Monty Python's, `Always Look on the Bright Side of Life,' the muscles in arms flexing as he worked out the `bloody scuffs and scratches'. By the time Joy was ready, any one glancing through the kitchen window would have smiled at the scene of familial bliss.

Usually late, she would be dropped off at the local school's big iron gates and ordered by her father to, `Get out of the bloody car and say not a word to anyone or you'll get what's coming to you, my lass.' Entering the huge, red brick building, tired and full of dread, she would frequently receive the stinging slap of a wooden ruler across her palm for `telling wicked lies about why you are late'. She was brave and, despite her parents' threats, when punishment was meted out for lateness or for sleeping in class, she told her teachers the truth, but if they believed her they never said so. Her last school report read:

`Joy has such a vivid imagination; she should aim to be either a novelist or a politician.'

The unloved child was losing weight and losing hope. At night, even in the cellar, she knelt on grazed scabby knees and prayed silently to baby Jesus that Glenda and Ken would disappear. She prayed for rescue that never came.

Joy was withdrawn and unnaturally tidy in appearance so, children, being cruel as only they can be, ensured school was a ritual of bullying. She endured taunts and lonely playtimes spent trying to blend into the background or hide in the toilet block; which is where she was when a small cold hand pressed something into her palm.

A small girl, with long silver hair and a dress made of violet flowers, stood before her. She tipped her head to one side and smiled, then rushed to embrace Joy before disappearing through the back of the cubicle.

Joy squealed in shock as she felt a sharp pain in her right hand and the warm slickness of scarlet blood that trickled between her fingers. She ran to the row of small sinks and held her palm under freezing water until the throbbing subsided. Drying her hand on her skirt she stared wide eyed at violet lettering that moved like veins beneath her pale skin, it read:

spes anchora vitae

She bit her lip and clenched her hand tight, dashing from cubicle to cubicle, throwing open the wooden doors. She was alone. Her knees shook and tears pricked the back of her eyes as she whispered, `Where are you girl? What have you done? Madonna will kill me when she sees this.' There was no answer. As the bell for lessons rang in the yard, Joy opened her fist to find her skin clear and unmarked.

Chapter Six

-PAPER HEARTS-

One winter's day, Joy's life changed forever.

It was the last day of term before Christmas and the Bay wore sunny, but frosty weather. The North Sea shimmered like blue silk, while greedy gulls cried, turning lazy circles across the cloudless sky.

Joy, exhausted after spending another night in the cellar, had fallen asleep at her battered school desk. Hearing the gentle tinkle of Christmas bells she roused herself to see a woman facing the class. The stranger's white hair flowed down to her ankles; her dress was embroidered with violets that seemed to leap off the material to spread their scent around the room as she moved flashing rainbow lights from silver rings and bangles. The class was awestruck, even Jimmy was quiet, his big, hazel eyes staring through a messy ginger fringe.

The woman spoke in a sing-song voice. `Hello, my sweets. I am Hope. Today we will make your hearts sparkle.' In her hands she held a branch of Silver Birch, bare of leaves and fixed in a pot covered in Christmas paper. Her coral tinged lips smiled, flashing perfect teeth, as she said, `This is going to be our Friendship Tree.'

Hope raised a red velvet cloth on the teacher's desk to reveal gold and silver pens, every colour of glitter, feathers in fluorescent pinks and greens, tiny stick-on mirrors, shiny gold and silver stars and new sticks of glue. At the side was a pile of plain paper hearts, one for each child. She knelt beside them, encouraging creativity and tickling their ears to make them giggle. As the paper hearts grew brighter and shinier, the scent of Parma violet candy filled the room clinging to the children like smoke.

Joy threw herself into the task. She used every type of decoration until satisfied that her paper heart was beautiful. Hope threaded each heart on an individual loop of satin ribbon. As she tied the knots and hung the hearts on the silver branch she sang `Jingle Bells' while the children danced around her brimming with hope that Santa would bring them the special gift off their lists.

When the Friendship Tree was finished the class applauded with sticky, glitter and ink smeared hands. The tree sparkled as its display of heart-shaped leaves spun in a slight breeze firing shards of dazzling light across the room.

Multi-coloured glitter adorned the children's faces, clothes and hair. Jimmy wore a head dress of pink feathers; his rowdy friends shrieked with laughter and chased him around, trying to knock it off his head.

While the rest of the class ran wild, Joy sat quietly admiring the tree so only she saw Hope disappear like a genie at the pantomime. She fell off her small wooden chair clutching at her throat, tears filling her eyes as her empty stomach hurled burning bile into her mouth.

Joy wasn't the only one to suffer from Hope's departure. Jimmy's cohorts viciously fought each other. Some children screamed and cried or curled up in the foetal position; others sat sucking their thumbs staring into space and rocking back and forth. When dusk fell, no-one turned on the lights.

When it was time to go home, Joy's heart was missing.

Chapter Seven

-THERE ONCE WAS AN UGLY DUCKLING-

Joy wasn't the same after she lost her heart. Her thoughts began to turn in on themselves as pain became a solid and malformed presence which followed her around, impersonating her shadow. She knew her home life was grim. She understood that she carried a dangerous dark, bad secret. It was too much for a child to bear.

In a bid to escape her warring parents, she spent hours playing on the beach, often risking the rapid tides as she stretched out her stolen moments of peace.

On Christmas Eve, 1983, ferocious North Sea waves battered the Bay heralding the approach of one of the worst storms in living memory. Despite the weather, Joy attempted to jump over the foam before the next wall of icy water crashed onto the sand. She wore her school uniform and spit polished shoes because everything else was either too small or too dirty. Shivering and wet through, she knew the state of her clothes would invite a severe beating. She didn't care. Her small stomach quivered as she thought, `That bitch, Madonna, isn't going to lay a finger on me ever again.'

The eight year old was angry about being bullied at school, angry about the domestic violence, the shouting and beatings at home. She was sick of being thrown in the old bath full of cold water and distressed beyond measure because this morning, after the ritual painful brushing, her mother had cut off Joy's beautiful blonde hair. Glenda attacked her daughter's head with blunt kitchen scissors simply because she couldn't find a hair tie. There were bleeding cuts on her scalp where the scissors had dug in and part of one ear lobe was sliced open. Her hair looked like it belonged on a broken doll that had been attacked by a toddler. It had been a tough day for a little girl.

Joy cried out her pain to the open sea, screaming at the top of her voice,

`You don't love me. You'll be sorry when they see what you do to me. I hate you. I wish I was dead.'

She fell silent; she had spotted the unmistakable outline of her father walking along the beach toward her. Her heart leapt, Daddy was coming to save her. Mum wouldn't miss her if she disappeared, but maybe, just maybe, Dad might.

For a moment, father and daughter locked eyes across the short distance between life and death. Joy wished he would run across the stormy beach and hug her tight; if she was to live she wanted it to be because her Daddy loved her. If he loved her then perhaps she could bear the rest.

Her small heart filled with hope as she jumped up and down waving an excited two handed hello. Ken saw her, thrust his hands deeper into his pockets and shrugged his shoulders. Then he turned and walked away from the tiny daughter he and Glenda had starved of affection and abused.

Joy shivered with sorrow as hungry waves crashed down on the beach. Her last hope trudged across the sand toward the concrete slip way. Ken headed for drinks at the Bay Inn which clung, on ancient bricks and mortar, to the rocks at the foot of the village.

A sudden squall broke, pelting pain over the lonely child crying on the exposed beach. Joy felt sick and afraid, she wanted to be a cloud going home to the sea. Hot tears stung her cold cheeks; she hugged herself tight, turning in frantic circles on the sand not knowing what to do. Ken had made his choice and by the time eight year old Joy had controlled her sorrow, she had made hers.

Sea water had filled the hated school shoes drenching Joy's feet. The weather and sea spray took care of the rest of her. The bedraggled child turned her back on the village and, with her crushed heart pounding an alarm in her bony chest, she ran into the sea to face the next big wave that crashed over her head. Her feet swept from under her as she was picked up like driftwood and spun upside down. Shocked by the rush of cold, Joy swallowed freezing, salty water. Fighting her instincts she welcomed the killer into her lungs, thinking only of her parents' reaction when they found her body.

She panicked, thrashing her limbs as she was dragged out to sea on the raging, retreating tide. She was a hair's breadth away from a large rock. Hope surged in her. Her small arms reached for safety. Her vision blurred. Her small lungs overflowed and her chest exploded.

Something travelled in the deep, accompanying Joy's body as it was swept away by the current that dragged beneath, rushing to obey the pull of the moon. Death also followed, ready to hold her hand as she passed from the Mortal Realm. But, for a split second before the murderous sea swallowed her, Joy had experienced hope, and now her soul wasn't willing to be easily parted from this life.

Bemused by her persistence Death tapped at his pocket watch. He tapped a second time and the fingers continued to move forward. No irritating tune issued forth, although, for a split second, he heard the distant chime of bells. He snapped the ancient timepiece closed. This was unusual, but all things are possible and mistakes are made. He would wait.