Whispers of the Past

Disclaimer: Mine ALL mine!

Mistrust and Trust

Rachel had felt miserable, as she stepped off the bus. She thought she had met a boy, no, a friend that would understand her, but he turned out to be just the same as the rest of them. She could not understand why this bothered her so much; it weren’t like she was a life-long friend. She’d seen him from afar at Toni’s, and had always had a slight crush on him, but today, when she met him she felt something whispering in the back of her mind like she should now him, and that disconcerted her.

Then there was that other kid! Ralph pronounced Rafe! I mean, she thought, how arrogant can you get! She hated the way he looked, from his sky blue eyes, the earring in his ear, and that shorn head. The bristles that adorned his head showed him to have black hair. She also hated his attitude, and the way he walked around the school like he owned the place. She liked Hank, as he resisted him, and stood up to him, and even defended her, but he disappointed her when they had that fight, and they became friends. She didn’t know why that disconcerted her, it just did.

She walked down the street to her grandmother’s home. Her only surviving grandparent, and Rachel’s best friend, and hero. Her parents were at work. Her father, George Snow, was a Manager in a Nationwide Kitchen Ware store, and her mother was an Interior Decorator. She walked down the path and knocked on the door. Her brother, Frank, answered it, his face smeared in chocolate.

“Oh, its all right Gran, its only Rachel,” he said.

Rachel grumbled, as she shoved her brother aside, and walked in the narrow hallway.

“Shut up, Frank!” Rachel exclaimed.

Rachel walked into the kitchen; Mary Snow was cutting some chocolate cake for Rachel. Her grandmother looked younger than her sixty years. There were still telltale signs of dark hair in amongst the invading silver locks. Her eyes were also dark, and mesmerizing, and captivating, Rachel was sometimes lost in those fathomless depths. It was where Frank got his looks. She had a younger sister called Deborah whom had auburn hair, and brown eyes. She took after their mother; Rachel knew she took after her grandfather. Her grandfather, Henry, died when Rachel was still quite young, and her memories, because of this, were quite spotty, and sporadic.

“Yes, Frank, be nice to your sister,” Mary reprimanded her grandson, and handed Rachel the slice of cake at the same time. Mary looked up into Rachel’s eyes, and immediately told Frank to leave the room, and watch television. Frank rolled his eyes and sighed, as he made his way to watch Transformers.

“All right, young lady, what seems to be the matter with you?”

Rachel was shocked, she knew her grandmother was perceptive, but she didn’t think she could be that perceptive. Rachel groaned, and she buried her head in her hands, as she leant down the table. She banged her head on the table in a slight amount of frustration.

“Today’s been great!” Rachel said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “It has been just great! In fact, I’d say today’s been bloody brilliant!”

Mary looked disapprovingly at Rachel’s last adjective.

“Why don’t you tell me all about it?” Mary asked, as she handed Rachel a fresh cup of tea.

“Well, where to begin? Oh yes. Well, firstly I met this boy, he seemed nice, he stood up for me, and for himself, and he seemed to be okay, BUT, then there was this OTHER boy!”

“There usually is,” Mary said wisely.

“He was not so nice. He called Hank, the aforementioned nice boy, names all day, and Hank got fed up with it, so, before the bus turned up Ralph, (pronounced Rafe), decided to beat Hank up.”

“And this upsets you because?” Mary asked.

“Hank then got up,” Rachel continued, “and then he swung his rucksack at Ralph’s testicles. After that Ralph let him as a member of the gang. It upsets me because now Hank won’t like me any more!”

Mary tapped her fingers on her mug of tea before she replied.

“Why do you say that?” she asked.

“Because evil always corrupts nice people,” Rachel sighed.

Mary laughed. It was a lovely deep chuckle. Rachel looked up, and she was about to reply it weren’t funny when Mary said something.

“You have known this boy for how long? And yet are ready to pronounce such a judgement on him?”

“But Gran,” Rachel whined, “you didn’t see him. He has these eyes that look right through you, he made me feel naked just looking at him. He made me shiver with coldness.”

Rachel sipped her tea, as she looked at her grandmother, she swore she saw a fleeting look of recognition and pain cross her grandmother’s brow.

“Oh dear,” Mary sighed. “Oh dear, oh dear.”

“Are you all right Gran?” Rachel asked, her voice laced with concern and worry.

“Just a passing headache dear, nothing to worry about,” Mary answered, rather abruptly, Rachel thought. “Now tell me more of your first day of school.”

Rachel sighed and slumped her shoulders.

“My tutor is called Mr Johnson, he doesn’t like it when you talk back to him! He doesn’t like it when you talk full stop.”


Mary smiled. She took another sip of her tea, and asked Rachel more questions. Rachel then mentioned she had homework to do and brought out her English and Maths books.

“How long do you have to do that for?” Mary asked.

“I have an essay to write on my first holiday, and then, an hour on Maths.”

Mary looked at the kitchen clock it stated 4.00pm.

“I suggest you do the Maths first,” Mary advised.

“Thanks,” Rachel said dryly.

Mary smiled, as if to say, ‘you’re welcome,’ and cleared away the tea things and the plates. Rachel had just brought out her pencil case and a black biro when her youngest sibling crawled into the room.

“Ra! Ra!” Deborah exclaimed gleefully.

“Deb! Deb!” Rachel giggled.

Deborah laughed her toddler laugh. Mary could understand J M Barrie’s theory on the existence of Fairies coming from the first baby’s laugh, it did sound magical, and it was one of Mary’s favourite sounds.

“Ha! Ha! Ra! Ra!” Deborah continued throwing her hands up and down in excitement.

“He! He! Deb! Deb!” Rachel exclaimed, as she picked her up, and gave her a huge cuddle. Rachel kissed her sister on the cheek, and Deborah placed her mouth on Rachel’s cheek. Mary lifted Deborah off Rachel’s lap.

“Come on trouble,” Mary said. “Let’s leave Rachel alone.”

Rachel pulled her Maths homework towards her. She did not want to do this homework, not because she hated Maths, on the contrary, she loved it, but because she hated the teacher.

Mr Brace, her Maths teacher, also gave her an odd feeling. He seemed to pick on her deliberately. It weren’t in a nasty way, and that’s what bothered her. She could not put her finger on it, but there was something not quite right about him. Should a teacher just stare at the legs of eleven-year-old girls? It unnerved her. Still, she sighed, he was her teacher, and she needed to get it done by tomorrow. English had to be handed in on Thursday.

She liked her English teacher, a Mrs Harvey. She was a nice, kind, motherly woman, and yet she taught her lessons with humour, and sometimes she even swore! She was a favourite amongst most of the students at Francis Drake Comprehensive.

She started her sums with a twist in her stomach. She kept glancing up at the clock to see the minutes tick by slowly. When the hour was up she breathed a huge sigh of relief, and proceeded to write an essay on her first holiday. She was three and she remembered her grandfather swinging her around on the beach, and, as she remembered her grandfather, a tear fell out from the corner of her eye.

“Rachel!” Frank yelled. “Dad’s waiting! Come on!”

Rachel shook her head and tidied her things up meticulously, and walked in the hallway, she stopped to kiss her grandmother goodbye, and went in the car.

“Dad,” Rachel began slowly.

“Hmm, what is it muffin?” George asked, knowing this nickname got on her nerves, Rachel decided to ignore it.

“Have you ever hated someone only to find out you were wrong about them and ended up liking them?”

“Yes,” George replied, his hazel eyes twinkling in the mirror. “Your mother!”

Rachel threw him an exasperated look.

“I’m sure dad was joking,” Frank mumbled.

“No, dad, seriously, have you?”

“No, because mum has always taught me not to let first impressions cloud my judgement,” her father said. “Why?”

“No reason,” Rachel sighed. She leant her chin on her hand, as she stared out of the rain-splattered window. The gloomy, dark weather matched Rachel’s mood. She got out of the car with no enthusiasm.

“Rachel,” George said. “You can talk to us about anything. You know you can.”

“I know, dad,” She walked into the kitchen and slumped her bag down by her chair, as her mother gave her, her pie and mash.

“Good day dear?” Heidi asked her husband, as she placed Deborah in her high chair. George kissed his wife on the cheek.

“Smashing,” he replied. “Yours?”

Heidi nodded. She sat down opposite Rachel and noticed Rachel was just pushing her food around on her plate, staring down into it.

“And what about yours Rachel? Anything to say?”

“Rachel’s got a boyfriend!” Frank said in an annoying singsong voice.

Rachel blushed, as she pierced her pie with more force than she meant, she twisted her fork in the pie making it a globule mess.

“Really?” Heidi asked, her brown eyes were laughing, even if her voice was serious.

“Not sure I can allow that!” George boomed.

Rachel felt her heart pump faster, and she felt her face flush with humiliation.

“His name’s Ralph,” Frank continued.

“You were supposed to be watching television you little squirt!” Rachel hissed. “And, for your information, Ralph is a pigheaded thick wit with no brains whatsoever!” She pushed her plate away, scraped her chair away, picked up her bag, and stormed up the stairs.

“What about your dinner?” Heidi yelled.

“I’m not hungry!” Rachel shouted back, as she slammed the door.

Heidi and George looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Heidi decided to follow Rachel, she held Rachel’s dinner in one hand, and with the other she smartly rapped on her daughter’s door.

“Rachel,” Heidi said gently, as she walked in the room.

“I said I’m not hungry,” Rachel mumbled, her face was hiding in one of her flower print pillows. Heidi knew her daughter had been crying, and was trying to hide the tears. Rachel had never openly cried in front of people.

“Come on,” Heidi said, as she placed the plate on a desk stationed in front of the window. “Why don’t you tell me what happened today? Hmm, come on, baby, don’t cry.”

Heidi picked her daughter up, and Rachel wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck. She cried some more, and then she told her mother all about Hank and Ralph’s little fight.

“That’s boys for you, Rachel,” Heidi rubbed Rachel’s back. “As strange as this sounds sometimes a bully like this Ralph, actually likes people to stand up for themselves. Perhaps, Rachel, he’s no bully at all.” Rachel sniffed and snorted at the same time. “Honestly darling, it sounds to me as if this Ralph wanted Hank to stand up for himself. After all, isn’t that what you did and yet he left you alone?”

Rachel shook her head in disbelief. “I wish I could be as optimistic,” she said glumly.

“Believe me, Rachel, don’t be so quick in putting people in a box. Not all of us can be compartmentalized in the boxes of good and evil.”

“Come again,” Rachel sniffed.

“Sometimes, Rachel, a bad man or woman can do the odd good deed. Likewise, a really good man or woman, can do the odd bad deed.”

Rachel looked up at her mother. Heidi began stroking Rachel’s hair to soothe and calm her daughter.

“I suppose you’re right,” Rachel sighed.

“Tomorrow has always the brighter sunshine, the better outlook.”

“So does the Riviera,” Rachel said, as she looked out the window.

Heidi laughed. She urged Rachel to eat her dinner, and to have a bath, and to go to bed. Rachel did just that.

*^*^*^*

Rachel woke up the next morning feeling more nervous than the day before, the nerves played around in her stomach making her feel sick. She groggily crawled out of bed, bringing half her duvet with her. She picked up a Toyah Wilcox album and put it on to wake her up with. She belted out the songs, as she got dressed for school. She then checked her timetable and packed her bag accordingly. She walked down the stairs and picked up her lunch money.

“Bye mum,” Rachel said, as she tiptoed up and kissed her mother on the cheek. Heidi turned, and kissed Rachel on the cheek back, and then turned back on the washing up. Rachel walked out of the door and fairly ran to the bus stop, as she saw the bus approaching. Looks like I’ll have to get up earlier, Rachel thought. The bus doors hissed open and she walked up the steps showing the driver her pass. She was just about to sit down when she felt a tug, coming from behind her. She turned around, and saw one of Ralph’s buddies take her bag away from her.

“Come and get it Titchette!” He jeered.

“Give it back,” she said calmly. She was not going to lose her temper or cry in front of this, idiot.

“Here it is,” he said. He offered her the bag, and just as her fingertips touched the fabric of her bag, he snatched it away from her again.

“Ooh, not close enough, I’m sorry!” He leered at her, his voice laced with false commiseration.

“Please give it back,” she pleaded.

She was just about to kick him in the shins, but the boy ended up on the floor, face flat on the floor of the bus. Ralph the picked Rachel’s bag up and handed it to her.

“Yours I believe,” he said to Rachel, handing her the bag. Rachel looked up into Ralph’s eyes, he looked serious, there was none of that arrogance that he had yesterday. She took her bag from Ralph’s grip with caution. “Like I said, Rachel,” Ralph said, as he looked down into her eyes, “I don’t personally hit girls.”

The boy got up swaying a little from the blow.

“What did you do that for?”

“I don’t like boys who beat up girls,” Ralph replied.

“Oh come on,” the boy whinged. “It was only for a bit for fun.”

“You,” Ralph said pointing at this boy, “sit there,” he pointed at the seat that Rachel was about to sit on. “You,” he said pointing at Rachel, “come and sit with us.”

He grabbed Rachel’s hand and dragged her to the back of the bus to sit with him, and his gang. Rachel felt a shock go through her body, as physical contact was made. Then that whisper sounded satisfied. It was as if they were meant to be friends. She was prepared to hate this tough guy for the rest of her life, and now she was being brought into his gang. She could not shake off the feeling that this was important.

The bus stopped again, and then Hank hopped on the bus. Hank did what Rachel did, and started seeking out the nearest empty seat, which was next to Alfred, Hank was just about to sit next to him.

“Oi,” Hank heard, and looked up. “Over here!”

Hank smiled. He bounced up to the back of the bus, Paul and Jack scooted apart to let Hank sit in-between them. It was only when Hank sat down he noticed Rachel, he nodded to her. She ignored him.

They talked and chatted about nothing in particular, they were finding out all about Hanks tastes.

“I’m more into reading than anything else,” Hank said. “I so much want Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy, but no matter how often I remind my parents, they always forget.”

Jack laughed.

“Mine are like that too, you can drop any amount of hints, and they STILL get it wrong.”

“Well,” Ralph said, as he squared his shoulders. “It looks like we’re here.”

The bus skidded to a halt and the doors opened. Ralph shoved aside a few of the younger children, Hank and Rachel following them, giving the victims pitying looks.

“Well,” Paul said. “See you at break time kiddo’s.”

“Sure,” Hank said. He waved at them, as they walked through the gates. He hung back to talk to Rachel.

“Look, Rachel, I’m sorry for upsetting you yesterday. Can we be friends?”

“You sure it won’t cramp your style?” Rachel answered bitterly. She brushed past him to go to her classroom.

She sat at the back of the class quietly waiting for her tutor, Mr Johnson, to walk in. The other children were piling in and were talking about what they did when they got home.

Mr Johnson walked in the classroom, and immediately the chatter stopped. He was tall, muscular, and he sported a moustache. He was constantly in his sports gear, because he was the Physical Education teacher. Rumour had it that he once fought in the Falklands War. The pupils certainly believed it, as he ran his class like he would run his troops. Rachel was a little scared of him.

“Right Class Settle Down!” He bellowed. Although he did not have to. They had all learnt from the previous day what would happen if they did not. “Mr Adams, where is the register?”

The whole class turned to look at Brian Adams. A small, thin boy, who wore NHS spectacles, he looked at Mr Johnson, and Rachel could see from where she was sitting that he was quivering.

“I – I d – don’t know, sir,” the boy stammered.

“It certainly is not on my desk, is it, Mr Adams.”

“N – no, s – sir.”

Rachel put her hand up.

“Yes, Miss Snow?” Mr Johnson asked.

“I’ll go and get it for you,” she volunteered.

“Is your name Mr Adams?” her teacher asked. She shook her head. “Then put your hand down,” he snapped.

Rachel did, but she glared at her teacher, as soon as his back was turned. Brian got up and gave a quick, grateful look at Rachel, and then scampered out of the room.

“Miss Snow, a word with you after!”

Rachel slid down in her seat.

Once the register was taken, and everyone accounted for, Mr Johnson gave them a few announcements, and then the bell rang for them to change lessons. Rachel stayed behind.

“That was wonderful Miss Snow!” Mr Johnson bellowed. Rachel creased her brow in confusion. “That was extremely brave of you. Putting yourself in the front line for a fellow classmate.”

“I, er, only offered to pick up the register,” she said.

“Precisely,” he said. “Well done. You may go.”

Rachel walked out of the room as fast as she could. She was met with Brian on the other side of the door.

“Barmy,” he said.

Rachel laughed.

“Come on,” she said. “We mustn’t keep Brace waiting.”

They walked to D block, which was where Maths was taught. They stumbled in the classroom, and Brace turned around.

“Right,” he said. “Now that Mr Adams and Miss Snow have decided to grace us with their presence, we can begin the lesson.” He looked at Rachel, his eyes twinkled, and she did not like it. They sat down in two empty seats that happened to be at the front of the class. “Now,” Brace said, as he turned towards the blackboard. He drew a 6 over a 3 and then turned back to look at the class. “Can anyone tell me what this is?” All the pupils looked from one to the other. “No one?” Rachel put her hand up. “Yes, Miss Snow,” he said, he smiled, as he looked at her.

“Is it a fraction, sir?” she asked, her voice wavering with uncertainty.

“Yes,” he said. “It is a fraction, Miss Snow, well done!”

The glow in his eyes made Rachel squirm in her seat. Other girls in the room swooned at the glow, they all thought he was fantastic; Rachel thought he was a creep. After Maths, it was History. That was marginally more interesting.

The History teacher was a Ms Fennel, and Rachel liked her instantly. Ms Fennel was young, but strict, and she deeply cared about the subject she taught, and Rachel was caught up in her enthusiasm. Rachel had found a teacher she could trust. She also found she loved this lesson. Ms Fennel decided to let the first years have a bit of fun, and let them do a project on Vikings. Rachel couldn’t wait to get started, the rest of the class, however, moaned.

“I expect it to be thoroughly researched,” Ms Fennel said in a strict, and firm voice. The bell rang for break and Rachel then went to look for Hank, she did want to be friends with him.

Ralph spotted her. She walked over to that group with a slight wariness about her, she weren’t sure she could trust this Ralph.

“You all right?” Ralph asked. She nodded. Hank had then turned up. “What have you sprites done today then?”

“I’ve had Maths and History,” Rachel replied. Hank was biting into a bit of cake.

“Who’d you have?” Ralph asked.

“Brace and Fennel,” Rachel replied.

“Hmm,” Ralph mused, as he narrowed his eyes. “Be careful with Brace, you don’t want to be on your own with him. There are a couple of girls in my year that claims he touched them on the knee. I don’t trust him. Have any problems and be sure to come to me. Fennel, well, she’s a all right…”

“And a bit of all right!” Jack joked.

“Not half,” Paul agreed.

“Morons,” Rachel said.

“AS I was saying,” Ralph said. Jack and Paul hung their heads shamefully, only to be seen laughing behind their hands by Hank, who had choked on a mouthful of his cake. Ralph sighed, as he rubbed Hanks back. “Fennel’s all right, but hates it when homework is a second or two later than it should be.”

Rachel glanced at Ralph shrewdly, trying to see any other motivations for Ralph to do this.

“Why are you doing this?” She asked.

“Because, Rachel, I like you, you got guts. Like Hank, you don’t take no for an answer. I do hope we can be friends?”

Rachel looked at Ralph’s outstretched hand and looked at the other three boys, who all nodded their heads. She could not fight the whispers any longer. She had to shake Ralph’s hand. She took his hand in hers and shook it. Ralph patted her comradely on the back.

“Who was that boy on the bus?” Rachel asked.

“Who’d you mean?” Ralph replied.

“The one that took my bag,” she said.

“Alfred,” Ralph replied darkly. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore, we decided to chuck him out. He was breaking my rules!”

“Rules?” Rachel blinked in surprise.

“I’ll go over them with you and Hank at my place on Saturday morning,” Ralph replied.

Rachel turned towards Hank; Hank just shrugged his shoulders and hitched his bag up.

“What do you have next?” He asked her.

“Art and Music,” Rachel said.

“English and Science,” Hank replied.

“Report back at lunchtime,” Ralph said.

“Yes, Ralph,” they answered.

Hank and Rachel watched Ralph walk of with his friends, and then exchanged equal looks of bemusement.


They then went of to where they had to go. Rachel spent the rest of the day wondering on her first break time with Ralph, she realised that Ralph was probably going to be one of the most important men in her life. The day actually went fast, and as the final bell rang, she ran for the bus. It was already there, but Ralph and Hank weren’t.

She walked to the back of the bus hoping it was going to be all right for her to do so. Sitting at the back was Alfred, the boy that had taunted her that morning. He sneered at her.

“Want to sit here girly?” he jeered. He grabbed her wrist. “Well, do you?”

“N – no,” she gulped. “It’s all right. You sit there.”

Alfred loomed over her, making her feel small, and helpless. He let go off her wrist, and as she was soothing it, she felt her hair being pulled. Alfred was yanking her hair, and making her look in his eyes. He was frightening her so much. She screwed her eyes up in pain.

“No, Titchette, be my guest!” He threw her on the seat, her head bumped into the back.

“How manly,” a voice said from behind them. Rachel was glad he’d turned up. “What an impressive show of strength!” Ralph exclaimed, his tone sour.

“I have nothing to say to you,” Alfred spat.

“Feelings mutual,” Ralph replied coldly. He punched Alfred onto an empty seat to get to Rachel. He felt an overwhelming sense of liking for Rachel, and he knew that he cared about her.

“Are you all right?” He asked. Rachel was rubbing her forehead, she would not remove her hand, and Ralph had to remove from her. He saw a trickle of blood flowing down. He turned to look at Alfred, his eyes speaking volumes. Alfred stormed down to the front of the bus. He shoved past Hank and Hank looked at the scene with Ralph holding Rachel protectively. Hank could not understand where the sudden stab of jealousy had come from.

“I’m fine,” Rachel moaned.

“No you’re not,” Ralph replied. “I’m going to walk you home all right.”

Rachel nodded. Hank sat the other side of her.

“What happened?” Hank asked. He looked at the blood and wanted to kiss her better. He put an arm around her shoulders.

“Him!” Ralph explained, his tone bitter. “He pulled Rachel’s hair and threw her on the seat where she hit her head.” His expression turned serious. “Listen Hank, I have no delusions about myself. I’m not nice, I know that, but even us not very nice people have a bug. My bug is men who hit women. It’s cowardly, and wrong!”

“Then you have something good about you,” Hank said quietly. Rachel leaned onto Hanks chest and continued her quiet sobbing. Hank rocked her back and forth.

*^*^*^*

The bus soon stopped at Rachel’s stop. Ralph picked up her bag, and then he picked her up, he supported her with an arm around her waist.

“You’ll have to lead me to your home,” he said to her. She nodded.

She walked with him, as he supported her.

“It’s my gran’s,” she said. “Dad comes and picks me up at around six.”

Ralph smiled, and then he knocked on the door. Mary answered the door this time.
“Oh,” she said. Her eyes widened in shock at the sight before her. A strange boy, a strange, yet familiar boy, was supporting her granddaughter. “Goodness, what happened?”

“Hello,” he said. “Um, I’m Ralph, one of Rachel’s friends from school. A boy pushed her on the seat and it cut her head. Sorry I couldn’t do anymore.”

Mary held out her arms and Rachel walked into them, her steps unsteady, Ralph helped her along by not letting go off her hand.

“I’m sure you’ve done enough,” Mary said. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“No ma’am,” he said. “Just make sure Rachel’s okay for tomorrow.”

“Thanks Ralph,” Rachel said.

“No problem,” Mary said thank you once again, and shut the door.

Once Mary had shut the door, she led Rachel to the kitchen to see how bad the wound was.

“That was the Ralph you were so determined to hate all your life only yesterday?” Mary asked, her voice had a hint of amusement in there.

“Go on,” Rachel sighed. “Get it over with.”

“What dear?”

“I told you so.”

“The thought never crossed my mind,” Mary said, although her smile belied her statement.

Rachel groaned, as Mary put a wet tissue on the wound to clear it up, she looked at her grandmother.

“Life is only going to get more complicated from now on, isn’t it?” Rachel asked.

Mary did not answer, as she tended to her granddaughter’s wound. The young man had given her a shock. He looked exactly like HIM. An odd feeling crept inside Mary’s veins, and she did not like it. It seemed her granddaughter’s new friendship might prove to be something else, and she was sure the past had something to do with it, or rather, a man from the past.

A man Mary would prefer to never meet again.

A/N Please leave a review or two, I really would love to read your thoughts on this! Thank you for reading by the way.