Sallowed Blood

Chapter Two

Chapter TwoGran has spoken to me.

In a way I would never have dreamed.

Daniel had no idea what thoughts were playing around in his dad's mind as they sat listening to the waves crashing against the rocks. Words, what use were they? Life had suddenly changed; the reading of the will had seen to that. He'd sat there, in that ancient office, listening but not really understanding. The words hung like lumps in the air. Heavy. Formless. What did they all mean? Had his Gran seriously left him five hundred thousand pounds? That was simply impossible! How had she been able to gather together that amount of cash? And that house! A castle, the solicitor had said, in Germany. True, Daniel had no ties in England, no real friends, no one to miss him, no one to wave goodbye, but to go abroad…and live! What was Gran thinking? Worst of all, he'd been enrolled in that school, an International thing in 'some provincial German backwater', Dad had said. It was all too much to take in. A part of Daniel didn't believe it. This must be some sort of trick, an elaborate hoax, yet a part of him also wanted it to be true. It would mean so much, a new start, an adventure, and a chance to really do something different. And Dad had the chance, too. Gran wanted him to rekindle his art, rediscover what made him tick, give him the chance to throw away the bottle, turn his face towards the sun and live.

His dad gave a sharp cough, and Daniel started and turned to him, raising his brows in a question. Dad just shook his head, “You were miles away,” he said with a slight laugh. “What are you thinking about?”

Daniel shrugged. “Dunno. Stuff.”

“Well that says a lot.”

“I don't know, Dad. Just …” He looked back to the sea. The beautiful sea, so powerful, so vast. If only he could run into its embrace and be swept away, together with all his worries, all his doubts. But the sea, like his future, held unknown dangers. Lurking just below the surface was something unseen and mysterious. Exciting, but perhaps just a little dangerous. He sighed heavily, “Just stuff.”

“It came as a shock to me as well, you know.”

“Oh yeah? Which bit? All the talk about Gran and all of her houses, or her giving me five hundred thousand pounds?” Daniel sneered. It sounded so weird saying it out loud. How could Dad not know? “Where did she get all that money, Dad?”

“Family business.” Now Dad turned to look out to sea. “But I had no idea she was so wealthy.”

“What sort of a business was it?”

“Brewery. It's been in the family for …well, I don't know exactly how long, but I know it's at least a hundred years old.”

“Brewery? What, like beer and wine and stuff?”

“Just beer. Different types. They like their beer in Germany.”

“How come you never mentioned it?”

“Because I didn't know. Not everything, not the details.” Daniel raised an eyebrow, but he allowed his Dad to continue, hopeful that questions might be answered. “She must have kept it on after … See, Gran was married before she married my dad, to a man called Pieter Fichtner. I never knew him, of course. He died. Killed, I think … Gran never said very much about it. She met your granddad about two years after her first husband's death. As far as I knew, that was it. I thought she had no more ties with the brewery or anything else to do with the Fichtners. Apparently,” he picked up a loose rock and hurled it into the churning water, barely able to suppress his delight, “I was wrong and we, my lucky, lucky lad, are rich!”

* * *

As they came through the door of their home later that same evening, the telephone rang. Daniel managed to grab it before it stopped. Breathless, but listening intently in curious silence, he passed the receiver over to his dad.

He purposefully didn't listen in on the conversation. When Dad had finally finished, he looked up and gave a frown.

“That was …” Dad shrugged, “Well, he didn't actually give his name. Just said he was at the reading.”

“The big bloke? The one with the neck?”

Dad mimicked his son's description in a whisper, “The big bloke with the neck …” He smiled, “Yeah, that's him! He-er-said he would call round and chat with us when we got to Bavaria. Said he wanted to talk about things that would mean we would never have to worry about money again.”

“But I thought we had lots of money?”

“Yeah … we do. Actually, to be perfectly honest, Dan – you do!

Something stirred inside Daniel, a simmering suspicion of something not quite right. He frowned deeply. “Then why did this bloke say what he said? What is it he wants?”

“I don't know, Dan. We'll just have to wait and see. No doubt he'll get in touch when we finally arrive in Germany. But I'm sure there's nothing to worry about.”

And that was it, really. In those few simple sentences, Daniel saw his whole life mapped out before him. He didn't really have any choice in the matter. His old life, here in Britain, was to come to an end. Just like that. Snap! Then off to Bavaria to begin anew. But it was such a huge step to take. Germany? If Daniel had chosen a hundred places to live, Germany would probably be close to the bottom of the list. Not exactly the warmest, sunniest of places. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that his whole way of life, everything he knew, loved, cherished, all of it, was gone. A monster was swallowing him up whole, a monster he couldn't control.

Yet excitement flowed through a tiny part of him, the thrill of adventure making itself felt. He'd been through it all in his head. A loner, relying on himself, sitting at home in his room, imaginary friends filling the void. Did he really have any ties to his old life? Yet there was still the fear, the concerns. In truth, it didn't really matter – as a teenager, he didn't really have any choice.

Dad patted him on the back. “Come on, Dan, it's not going to be that bad. Ask yourself one question. What have we got here? Huh? Memories, that's all. Memories of …” he paused, but Daniel knew what he was thinking. Dad's next word confirmed it, that single utterance holding so much pain, “Nancy.”

Daniel tensed, but found, with some relief, the mention of his mother's name did not affect him quite so much as it once might have done. Had the reading of the will and the promise it contained numbed the pain, even just a little? A sudden thought came to him. “Do you think Mum would have agreed with all this?”

Dad took a moment to think. “She probably would,” he began slowly. “Although she did love it there, in Cornwall. But then again, things were different when she was …” His voice trailed off, and he went over to the sideboard and opened one of the cupboards. Inside hung, arranged in a haphazard sort of fashion, a mixture of bottles, most of them containing alcohol. Daniel watched him in silence, panic welling up inside him, as his Dad, in a sort of dream, reached out for the whisky and emptied the remnants it into a glass. Was this about to be another session of steady, heavy drinking, which would ultimately lead to his dad stamping around the house, yelling and cursing, hurling his glass against the wall? He had hoped that the news from Mr. Spencer, the solicitor, would have in some way changed his dad, bringing him out of his deep depression. But the mention of Mum's name seemed to tip him over the edge once more. Daniel closed his eyes in despair, opening them a moment later.

Dad turned around and faced his son, the glass held lightly in his hand. He hadn't taken a drink yet. He looked at the amber liquid, swirling it around the bottom of the tumbler, seemingly of two minds as to what to do. “I know what you're thinking, Dan,” he said quietly without looking up.

“Do you, Dad?”

Dad nodded his head, without looking up. “Yes. Gran's hope was that I could change, give up all of this.” He raised his glass and gave a lop-sided grin. “Become an artist again – a best-selling artist … rediscover my so-called talent …”

“But you are talented, Dad! You always have been. Ever since I can remember you–”

“No, Dan. No …” He shook his head sadly, then, without another word, he drained the glass, wincing a little as the fiery liquid hit his throat. He smacked his lips and set the glass down with deliberate care, letting his fingers rest on the rim. “But Gran is right … was right. I've got to get myself together. For you, Dan.” His bleary eyes suddenly welled up with tears, and they began to trickle, unchecked, down his face. “Nancy is gone. It's time to move on, Dan. Time to live our lives. We've got a chance to do that now, thanks to Gran. So …” He wiped his eyes with his hand then picked up the glass and began to run it under the tap, rinsing it through with his fingers, rubbing the inside until it squeaked. He carefully set it down on the drainer. “That's the last of that.”

Before he could say another word, Daniel was hugging him with all his might, squeezing his long lost Dad, come back to him at last.