Whispers of the Past

Disclaimer: These characters are mine, AND, I am extremely possesive of them!

A/N I am pleased that people have read the Prologue but I would love to read your comments on it... in other words, a review or two would be appreciated... please?

The Whispering Begins

Hank was born into an ordinary family in a council estate in the City of London. He was born August the 28th 1975 to Gertrude and Harry Harris. He was, for the most part, a happy child. There was only one thing he was afraid of in his life; and that was his grandmother. Louisa Harris looked like a parody of a Pantomime Dame without the jokes and sweets.

He was shortly followed by his sister Anna and his brother James, then his twin brother and sister Daniel and Elizabeth had been born. He loved the role of big brother, and he played it very seriously. It gave him – at the age of ten – a much intelligent and mature demeanour than most his own age. Unfortunately, this led to him being bullied by the children at his Primary School. They did not understand him.

Harry, his father, was a second-hand car dealer and his mother was a hardworking housewife.

“With five kids, do you honestly think I’ll have time to have a job?” she demanded everytime Harry suggested she get employment. “Honestly, Harry, do you live in the clouds or what!”

“My father could look after the kids,” Harry suggested mildly.

“I don’t know what Louisa taught you Harry, but my mother told me that when you have kids, those kids are your responsibility, not someone else’s.”

Hank had heard this argument at least once a week. He did not want his mother to go out and seek employment. He liked coming home from school to find his mum home; ironing, baking, whatever household chore she did on that particular day of the week. It gave him an enormous sense of security. Everytime his parents had this discussion Hank was always scared he’d come home and find his mum looking for work. He knew it was a silly fear to have! He knew his mother loved being a housewife. Whenever strangers, generally career women whom Gertrude knew for a while, mentioned how bored she must get, Gertrude had replied that she had plenty of hobbies to occupy her time, as well as the five kids.

Two things occurred in Hanks tenth/eleventh year simultaneously that had a huge impact on the rest of his life. One; his grandmother died, and two, he started Secondary Education.

He knew he should have cried at his grandmothers funeral, but instead he was sitting in the church with his cousin Philip, laughing behind their hands, whispering jokes about the ghastly make up she wore with that hideous candy pink hair in a Margaret Thatcher style. His father regularly poked his eldest son in the back. Harry leant forward more than once and hissed the word ‘respect;’ this only encouraged Philip, a well-known troublemaker.

Philip got his personality from his father, Hanks Uncle Mark. Mark Smythe was as old as Hanks grandfather. But that did not stop Hanks Aunt Sarah from falling in love with Mark and getting married and having three children. Louisa, who wanted to be a nurse, Philip, who had a talent for storytelling, and last but by no means least, Julia, who was by far the prettiest of the all the family, and did everybody know it! The Smythe family normally lived in Luton. A town not too far away from London.

Hank loved all his cousins. Philip was two years older than Hank and Hank looked up to Philip like he was an older brother. Although, you could not get two opposites in looks if you tried.

Hank had ash-blonde almost silver hair and blue sparkling, twinkling eyes, that when he was angry turned a stormy grey, which didn’t happen very often. Hanks complexion was dark though, a complete contrast to his otherwise light hair and eyes. Philip had dark black hair, which reached down to his shoulders, and was thin, which gave it the tendency to go lank after being unwashed for two days. His eyes matched the colour of his hair almost, and almost, always, sparkled with some form of mischief. His skin tone was pale, as if he had not seen the sunlight throughout his life. His looks earnt him the nickname Dracula – a nickname he was proud to carry.

Louisa, Philips older sister, had brown hair, eyes, and complexion. She felt dowdy and dull when she was with her entire family, she knew she was not the belle of the ball. Julia had red hair with some shades of natural blonde interwoven in her waves. She had silvery eyes and a very cheeky smile; she could look innocent and could get away with everything because of it. She was sitting next to Anna.

Anna Harris was a shy, awkward, child. She was gangly, freckly and she wore glasses and was forced to wear her mousy blonde hair in pigtails with pink ribbons. James was a mixture of his brother and cousin. He had black hair, which had a tendency to flop over his brow, and grey eyes. Finally next to James, were Hanks twin brother and sister, Daniel and Elizabeth. Daniel and Elizabeth both had thick wavy auburn hair and green eyes, but that was as far as the similarities went, for Daniel was a big, beefy boy, and Elizabeth was petite and trim. They were only a year old and gurgled happily, unaware that they were at a solemn, sad occasion. Anna was holding Daniel, and James was holding Elizabeth.

Hank and Philip had gotten bored of the Vicar droning on and on about how she had suffered and that God had now let her rest in peace. She was now highly rewarded for what she had done. Mentioning her as a loving, loyal wife to Charles, a devoted mother to her two children, Harry and Sarah, and a sweet, attentive grandmother to her eight grandchildren.

“Crap!” Hank heard his grandfather say from behind him. Philip giggled. Hank smiled rather shamefully, as he did not want to laugh, yet not being able to resist the impulse any further, he snorted along with his cousin.

“Father,” Harry hissed. “Not in church.”

“I don’t care where we are Harry,” Charles whispered back. “It’s all cotton woolled codswallop in my opinion, which amounts to the same thing!”

Philip could not help but laugh out loud.

“Shut up, Philip,” Louisa said.

“Grampy’s right though,” Philip said. “It is cr -,” he looked at his mother who was eyeing him carefully, “codswallop.”

Hank turned around and looked at his grandfather. The old man winked at him; his fading periwinkle blue eyes dazzling with mischief. Hank nudged Philip, who then turned around and Charles smiled at both of them.

Of all his brood and blood, these two made him the proudest. He loved their camaraderie; their spirit. Charles leant over and whispered in their ears.

“Race you to the coffee shop!”

“You’re on Gramps!” Philip replied.

Hank stood at the grave of his grandmother, spring rain drizzling down on him. He was confused by the lack of emotion. Surely he should feel something. The Vicar approached him with a sad look in his eyes.

“Are you all right my son?”

“I am confused Father,” Hank admitted. “I did not love her, yet I miss her all the same.”

“Sometimes, son, we do not know or realise how much we love someone until they die, and then we wish we had another chance with them. Do not worry there will be a time when death shall re-unite you with your grandmother up in Heaven!”

Hank felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. He turned and looked into his grandfather’s eyes, which were fixed stonily on the Vicar.

“With all due respect, Father,” Charles began stiffly. “I do not wish you to fill my grandson’s head full of this dogmatic nonsense!”

“I assure you, Mr Harris, I meant the boy no harm, I was simply answering a question. The boy was simply confused.”

“And he doesn’t need you to muddle his brain with more mutton headed thinking. My late wife is neither in Heaven, or Hell, or Perjury! She is there in that coffin and there she will rot!”

“But the boy did ask me a question,” the Vicar said a little too pompously.

“The ‘boy’, happens to be called Hank!” Charles said harshly. Charles turned Hank around and they both walked away from the pompous Vicar. “Want a coffee, Hank?” Charles asked.

“Sure Grampy,” Hank answered.

“Listen, Hank, and listen carefully, your grandmother believed in that rubbish but I don’t!”

“Neither do I,” Hank replied quickly.

“What was it you asked the Vicar?”

“I was confused that, well, I didn’t love Gran, but I miss her all the same.”

“Don’t miss her, Hank, we can all breathe again.”

Hank was a little relieved to know that he was not the only one who did not love Louisa Harris, as far as he could tell, no one in his family loved Louisa Harris.

Hank did love his grandfather though. Charles was his only surviving grandparent as his mother’s parents both died when he was very young. He hardly remembered them.

They walked into Toni’s Espresso. A coffee shop opposite the church. The sign was very seventies in design, a dark cream background for the sign, and brown writing. The O was shaped like a cup of coffee with steam coming out of it. It was Hanks favourite coffee shop. Not least because it did the best coffee his side of London, but because she was always in there.

She was a girl he had first clapped eyes on a few weeks ago. Hank did a quick scan of the room, his heart leapt into his throat, she was there. He did not know her name, but he knew that she was meant to be his one-day. He couldn’t describe that feeling. It’s just looking at her gave him a sense of familiarity, as if he should know her. He wished he could pluck up the courage to talk to her.

“We’re sitting over there,” James said, tugging at Hanks hand. Hank quickly shook himself out of his pleasant daydream.

Hank let himself be led by his insistent younger brother and he sat down on a seat next to Philip who had reserved it for him.

“What did that Vicar want?” Philip asked. “If he was bothering you I’d have told him my nickname.”

Hank laughed.

“One look at you, Phil, and he might have believed you,” Anna said sulkily.

Philip looked at his sour little cousin. She looked wrong in that pink frilly dress. Gertie did not believe in making children wear black to a funeral. That, of course, didn’t stop Philip, but then Philip was not Gertie’s child. Philip could not help but think that Anna might have preferred to have worn black. It definitely would have suited her scowl. If he had to be totally honest with himself he had to admit that he preferred Hank’s younger sister to his own.

“Hank,” Philip said.

“Hmm,” Hank said, the girl leaving the café momentarily distracted him, she was looking harassed as she was holding a baby, and had a younger brother at her side. He wanted to help her. He felt a sharp dig at his ribs. “What?” he asked as he rubbed at his sore ribcage.

“Can we swap younger sisters?” Philip asked, the gleam of mischief was ever present in his dark eyes.

“No,” Hank said straight away, he loved Anna too much to share her with anyone.

“Spoilsport!” Philip sulked.

Harry and Gertrude got up and shook hands with everyone at the table. Gertie hugged Sarah and both promised to keep in touch. Hank had said goodbye to his family.

“Right,” Harry sighed. “We’ve got to get home too.”

*^*^*^*


The second most important thing to happen to Hank was his going to what his mother annoyingly referred to as ‘big boy school,’ this occurred a few months after his grandmother’s funeral.

He woke up on that dreary, September morning with nerves in his stomach. He hated Primary School. He did not think that Secondary School was going to be better. He dressed himself and made himself look presentable. He had all his books in a rucksack. He wore his uniform with pride, but not with confidence. He picked up his bag and went downstairs.

“Nervous?” his mother asked.

“Sort of,” he replied.

“Just be yourself and people will love you,” Gertie advised.

“Yeah sure,” Hank murmured sceptically. He poured himself a bowl of Crunchy Nut Cornflakes.

“You only have ten minutes,” she warned, a slight note of panic crept in her voice.

“The bus stop is only three minutes away,” he said. His mother gave him a glare, which made Hank shovel down the cornflakes and leave in haste.

By the time the bus did turn up at the stop, the bus was full. Hank went right to the back of the bus but it was devoid of spare seats. Sitting at the back of the bus was a group of boys a few years older than Hank, and a lot tougher. There was a spare seat there, right in the corner.

“Excuse me please,” Hank said politely. “May I sit there please?”

“No,” a boy said.

“W – why not?” Hank stammered.

“Because I say so.”

“You tell him Ralph!” One of his friends jeered.

“How many times, Paul, it’s pronounced Rafe!”

Hank turned around.

“Yeah, that’s it Titch, turn around, and leave us alone!”

“Hello,” a girl said. She was standing in front of Hank, Hank couldn’t believe it, it was his dream girl.

“H – h – hello,” Hank stuttered awkwardly.

“Look, Ralph, its Titch and Titchette!”

“Ignore them,” she sighed. “They’re only stating the obvious sizes of their brains.”

Hank smiled and laughed.

“Does Titch want to sit down on a seat?” One of the boys continued mocking. “Does mummy dwess him to?”

Hank began to shake with anger.

“Shut up!” He said through gritted teeth.

The gang stopped their laughing and jeering.

“What did you say?”

“I said,” Hank began, as he turned around to face this big hulking boy. “Shut up!”

The one called Ralph stood up and grabbed Hank by his school tie and picked him up. The whole bus was watching.

“You better curb that gob of yours Titch or we’ll curb it for you! No one dares mess with us! Understood?”

“Perhaps its about time someone did,” the girl stated calmly.

Ralph put Hank back on his feet and straightened the tie up, and turned his attention towards the girl.

“And you are?” He asked, a thin sneer creeping along his thin, rough lips.

“Rachel Snow,” she replied smartly.

“Lucky your girlfriend was here Titch,” Ralph leered at Hank, “and,” he said turning towards Rachel, “it’s damn lucky for you, Rachel, that I don’t thump girls. I take ‘em out instead. Friday night suit you?”

“In your dreams,” Rachel replied. Her eyes narrowing with obvious hatred at this insolent loathsome boy.

Hank stepped between Rachel and Ralph and looked at Ralph with his eyes turning to a stormy grey.

“Find your own species,” he said in a dark tone.

Ralph was about to reply but then the bus stopped outside the school gates.

“Later, Titch!” Ralph threatened before shoving Hank out of the way so that he, and his gang, could get off the bus first.

Once Hank and Rachel were off the bus, Rachel turned to Hank.

“Where are you supposed to go?”

“Er, I think I’m with F1,” he said. He took out his timetable and looked at the top. “Yes, I am with F1.”

“Pity,” Rachel sighed. “I’m in J1.”

Ralph had not moved too far from these two.

“Same tutor as me Snow!” he yelled. “’Cept that I’m in J4. Johnson, don’t like back chatters.” He looked at her face and appreciated the horror. “NOT!”

“Morons,” Rachel murmured. “At least I am not in the same year as him,” she said offering Hank a smile.

Hank smiled back. “See you around?” He asked.

“Sure.”

*^*^*^*

Hank walked into his tutor group and sat in the back of the classroom, in the corner. He did not want any unnecessary attention drawn upon himself. There were already a few other people in his tutor; two of them were rowdy and loud. He would do the best he could to avoid these two. He hoped the class would settle down soon. He had a headache already.

Something strange had happened to him the moment he locked eyes with Ralph, he had heard some sort of whispering. He felt he should have known who he was, he even felt as if he should be friends with him… like one day it would become important. Then a more mundane thought occurred to him, and it made him kick himself on the shin, literally. He forgot to tell the girl his name. Perhaps, he thought, at first break time.

His tutor was a woman. A Ms Fennel. She looked strict, she was not old but she had the air of being old, and she had her hair in a tight French plait.

“I am Ms Fennel, not Miss, not Mrs, Ms, got that class,” she said in a clear crisp voice.

“Yes, Ms Fennel,” the class droned.

“Good. We’ll start the day with the register, which I do not happen to have on my desk,” she looked up. “Would someone like to volunteer to get it for me please?”

Hank looked around the classroom and not seeing anyone else put his or her hand up in a hurry, he raised his hand up.

“I’ll go,” he said, getting up.

“Thank you, and your name?”

“Hank, Ms, Hank Harris,” he answered.

“Thank you, Mr Harris,” she answered.

Hank left the classroom. He could hear the sniggers and the jeers already. The two boisterous idiots that annoyed Hank earlier had chanted ‘Teacher’s Pet!’ at him whenever they could. Hank was counting down the minutes to break time.

When the bell rang he immediately jumped out of his seat and made sure that he was the first out of the door. He soon found her; she was standing against a wall. He walked up to her, his heart back in his throat. Did this girl realise how pretty she was?

“Um,” he began blushing. “I didn’t tell you my name.” Rachel giggled. “It’s Hank, Hank Harris.”

A shadow fell across them both and Hank turned around only to look up in the face of Ralph.

“Lets yank Hank!” He exclaimed.

Hank gulped when he looked into Hanks sky blue eyes; again he heard that whisper, a strange feeling washed over him.

“Hank,” he heard a soft, small voice say. “Don’t bother it’s your first day of school. You’ll only get into trouble.” Hank turned around and Rachel slipped her hand in his. She gently, and quietly, led Hank away from a dangerous scene.

“See you around loser!” Ralph leered. “And Rachel, pick you up at seven okay!”

Rachel just continued walking away, ignoring him completely.

The rest of the day did not go much better. His only friend was in another class and everybody else was nasty and cruel to him. Hank did not understand why he was the target. He weren’t being nasty or cruel to them. It seemed he was being bullied for being too nice. He so much wanted to talk to his grandfather and Philip.


He ran out of his last lesson, which was English, to make sure he got to the bus first so that he would not have to encounter that ruffian.

“Look who it is!” a voice he had heard enough of by now leered. “It’s Hanky Chief. Gonna go home and snivel on mummy?”

“You better be careful, Raffle Ticket,” Rachel said, as she was walking towards them.

“Only a coward has a girl stand up for him,” Ralph jeered.

“Actually,” Hank began slowly. “My grandfather say’s only a coward picks on those smaller than themselves.”

Ralph turned towards his gang; the expression he held on his face made them back away. And some others who also understood the look. Boy, the crowd thought, was this first year gonna get it! Ralph chucked his bag at one of his mates, and then he chucked his coat at another one, and then he spun around on Hank.

“I warned you this morning, Hanky Chief, what happens to someone when they talk back to me. No one does, and gets away with it!”

Ralph swung a fist at Hank; Rachel frowned at both of them. Hank landed on the floor. Hank got up on his knees; he wiped at his mouth, and saw blood on the back of his hand. The crowd laughed at this beaten eleven-year-old. This only served to make Hank angrier. His resolve strengthened. He got up and stood on his two feet, he planted his feet firmly, and his expression was stormy grey again.

“I am not a Titch!” Hank exclaimed.

The laughter stopped. Ralph turned around, his brow furrowed in confusion. Once he had floored someone, they usually stayed floored.

“Prove it!” Ralph challenged.

Hank swung his rucksack right smack bang on Ralph’s testicles. Ralph grabbed them and sunk on the floor, his face contorted in pain. The crowd was really interested now. Rachel rolled her eyes. Ralph soon recovered and stood back up. Everyone was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, they were all waiting to see what Ralph would do.

“You really have guts don’t you?” Ralph asked. Rachel was looking from one to the other.

“Like I said,” Hank replied shrugging his rucksack back on his shoulders. “I am no coward.”

Ralph looked at the gang standing at a fair distance behind him.

“What’s your name?” Ralph asked in a much friendlier tone than he previously used.

“Hank,” he replied. “Hank Cliff Harris.”

“Mine’s Ralph,” the older boy replied holding out his hand. “Ralph William Green.”

Hank shook the offered hand. Immediately he felt that something big had just happened between them.

“Sorry about that unpleasantness Hank,” Ralph said.

“That’s all right,” Hank said.

“Boys!” Rachel groaned.

“So,” Ralph began. “What’s with the name?”

“My mother is a huge Shadows fan,” Hank replied.

“You poor thing,” Ralph said in a tone of pity. “Hey, gang, we got a new mate!”

The rest of Ralph’s gang all came forward, they were all relieved that it seemed Ralph was in a happy mood.

“I’m Paul,” one said.

“I’m Jack,” another said.

“I’m Alfred,” the last one said.

“Hank,” Hank said plainly.

Hank turned around to ask Rachel if she was all right, but Rachel had stalked off somewhere else. Hank’s heart sank.

“Bus is here,” Ralph said roughing Hank’s hair. “C’mon dreamy head.”
Hank looked at the bus.

“All right,” he sighed. He straightened up his bag on his shoulder and walked up the steps. He was still slightly nervous of Ralph, but by the time he got home, he realised that he was being stupid. Ralph did give him his telephone number and he did say, ‘tomorrow mate!’

One thing spoiled his euphoric mood. As he was walking down the aisle he saw Rachel looking out of the window and she looked miserable. Tomorrow, he thought, he’d try to make it up to her tomorrow.

A/N Crunchy Nut Cornflakes happen to be my favourite cereal. Primary School is what Americans refer to as Kindergarten (I think.) And the reason why I had Ralph's gang sitting at the back of the bus was because that was the most frightening place for me when I was going to and from school as that was where all the bullies sat.

And please, please, please leave a review. I just want to know what you think!