Whispers of the Past

MLC - Thank you for your continued support. I hope you like this chapter.



Be Warned: Hints of Incest!



Oedipus and Doppelgängers



Two days had passed since that awful incident and Rachel had rested at her grandmother’s. She appreciated the calm and quiet that her grandmother had given her. She didn’t think she’d be able to cope with Frank stamping around the place or Deborah insisting that her sister pick her up every five minutes. Rachel managed to watch what she wanted, listened to what music she wanted to listen to and go to bed when she felt like it. Mary felt that Rachel deserved that at least.



Rachel had visitors though, mainly Ralph, and Hank. Mary shivered slightly when she saw these two boys together. She looked at the way they were treating her granddaughter and she smiled at the way that Hank was looking at Rachel. She barely knew the boy but she could see that he loved her granddaughter. They stayed for a couple of hours and then both said that they had to get their Christmas shopping.



She had observed the difference in the way Rachel had behaved between the two different boys. She was grateful to Ralph for obvious reasons but her eyes were forever flitting over to Hank. Particularly when Hank wasn’t looking. Mary sighed with great pleasure. She observed the way Hank was with Rachel, and she could tell that the boy would look after her well. She could sense that with Ralph too, but Ralph was a little too rough around the edges for her granddaughter.



Mary frowned slightly at the thought that it could all happen again. That in some nasty turn of fate history could repeat itself. She hoped not. It was horrible the first time round, and she had to live through that, it would be torture to sit helplessly and watch it happen again.



She was pleased, though; that at the moment they seemed to present a united front and she was sure that the fact that they both cared for more than just Rachel would keep them together.



The second day provided Rachel with more visitors. The same two police officers that had come to the school the other day.



“Hello, Mrs Snow, I am Detective Inspector Jones, and this is my partner Sergeant Allen. Can we come in? I got some questions I’d like to ask!”



“Sure,” Mary said. “Cup of tea?”



“Yes, please. Make mine medium, no sugar.”



“Black,” the young sergeant replied.



Mary nodded, and showed them into the house. They looked around the pretty salmon pink sitting room and sat down on the squashy sofas. The older one sat next to Rachel. The younger one perched on a chair.



“Rachel, this is Detective Inspector Jones and Sergeant Allen,” Mary said.



Allen narrowed his eyes at Rachel. “I recognise you. You’re the girl that comforted that boy that had his mother murdered three years ago!”



“I am,” Rachel agreed.



“Are you recovered?” the older officer said before his young colleague diverted the conversation completely away from what they had come here to discuss, not that he blamed him, what they had come to say wasn’t very nice.



He was shaken to the core; he had a fourteen-year-old daughter at the school to. He had to remain calm throughout this investigation though. Rachel looked at him. She nodded. Her grandmother had disappeared into the kitchen making them a cup of tea.



“I am still a little shaken,” she replied. “And I can’t get the images out of my head.”



The older officer looked at his partner. The younger officer looked like he was going to be ill. Mary came in with a tray of tea and biscuits, she spotted the police investigation bags out of the corner of her eye.



“What’s in those?” she asked.



She handed the tea to the officers and offered the plate of biscuits around. They took one each and sipped their tea. The older officer sighed.



“Before I show you what is in those bags, I need to ask you a few questions.”



Rachel nodded her head. “I don’t know how much I’ll be able to tell you.”



“Any information is better than no information, Miss Snow,” the older officer said. “Can you tell us in your own words, how Mr Brace made you feel?”



“He made me feel dirty, he made me uncomfortable with just his eyes. He always overemphasised my abilities and paid me more attention than anyone else.”



“And this made you suspicious?” D.I Jones asked.



“Is it normal for a man in his early forties to look at the legs of eleven year old girls and lick his lips as he’s doing so?” Rachel snapped. “Of course I was suspicious.”



D.I Jones shifted in his seat. He may ask his daughter some questions later. “No, it isn’t, Miss Snow.” He shook his head and wished he’d chosen accountancy instead. “Neither is what I am about to show you.”



“Can I be excused?” Sergeant Allen asked.



“No,” D.I Jones said. The younger officer sat back meekly in his chair. “Give us Exhibit A.” His colleague offered Rachel the first bag. She looked at it and a lump came to her throat.



“What was he doing with my favourite scrunchie?” she asked.



“Can you remember when you lost this?”



“Three months ago,” she said. “Brace had walked out of the classroom so I took the opportunity to brush my hair and fasten it back up. I remember that I forgot to place the band back on my hair as he suddenly walked back in. And when I went to pick it up I couldn’t see it. I assumed that one of the other girls pocketed it.”



Allen continued scribbling. “Can you give us the other bag?” Allen dropped his pencil and flustered as he gave it to his partner. “Exhibit b.”



Rachel looked through the plastic. It was a photograph of her in her P.E kit bending down outside the previous summer, when she was just thirteen years old. “Bloody bastard!” she exclaimed indignantly.



“Isn’t it amazing what a well placed camera with a timer can do?” Allen said sarcastically. His boss gave him a withering glare. “That’s what he said when we confronted him with it.”



Rachel shivered in disgust. “Can you please read exhibit c, for us?” D.I Jones asked.



Rachel glanced down at what she was holding in her hand, it turned out to be a torn page out of a diary dated 12th of December 1989. The entry read as follows:



I must act on my feelings otherwise I would never forgive myself, there have been other girls but Rachel is the one. The way the sunshine glitters on her strawberry blonde hair. Her green eyes sparkle like summer dew on the grass. Her pale freckly skin has a shine that just cries out with the need to be touched and stroked by my hands.



Describing her like this has caused me to erect. Just the thought of her turns me on…



Rachel flung the bag on the floor at that point. She was shaking visibly. Mary noticed Allen give his boss a told you so look.



“I can’t read anymore!” she exclaimed.



“We need you to read this one, I promise you, Miss Snow, there won’t be anymore after this. This one is the only one we’ll make you read, I promise.”



Rachel sighed and picked it up. She glared at the D.I; Allen sniggered a little behind his hand. She continued reading:



See what I mean, dear diary. I am looking fondly at some of the secret pictures I took of her and just dreaming of her sweet, stammering voice in my ear murmuring my name as we are entwined in the act of man’s greatest pleasure.



Rachel is the other half of my perfect equation. She is my plus one to make us two. I love her! I love her! I need her to make me feel complete and to make me feel like a man. I need to caress her young, ripening body with my hands and lips.



I have observed her with that stupid boy who probably would tip her upside down to find out where she was made and see if he could find the instruction manual to work her! I, dear diary, do not need such things. I know how to work her. All I have to do is appeal to her intellect. Warm her to me. I have done that already I think. I see her blush when I look at her. All the other girls could only dream of comparing to her.



This boy hasn’t even the guts to even hold her hand. Well, I have the guts to hold her entire body against mine, pressing her to my hot, sweaty body as I make her scream my name. I have a plan in mind – I will put it to action as soon as possible. I will make her trust me and when she has no other choice I will make her mine.



“Do you have any idea who this boy is?” D.I Jones asked.



“My best friend Hank,” Rachel replied in a faraway voice. She read through it again just to make sure she had read it correctly. “He was obsessed with me!”



“That’s the impression we got when we raided his house,” Allen said. “I threw up.”



“You mean there’s more?”



“There is more, that’s one of the milder ones; others go on and on about how he would like to take you,” D.I Jones said as kindly as he could. “He even built a shrine to you.”



“Why me?” she asked faintly. Her complexion turned grey. She looked at the police officers in front of her.



“Well,” Allen said. “The answer lies in the last exhibit.” He brought out the fourth plastic bag. Rachel sighed and looked down at a faded, sixties colour photograph. It was a picture of Simon Brace as a teenager. He was standing next to a woman who had a striking resemblance to ...



“It’s like I’m looking into a mirror,” Rachel said. She passed the photograph to her grandmother and Mary’s eyes widened in shock at the amazing similarities between this man’s mother and her granddaughter.



“Have you ever heard of the Oedipus Complex?” D.I Jones asked.



Rachel shook her head. The older officer sighed and he looked back at Allen, Allen shook his head. D.I Jones coughed.



“Well, it’s a psychological condition. Apparently it’s a problem that stems from childhood. A boy can develop feelings for his mother from as young as the age of four. We found out that he lived, and shared a bed with his mother, right up until she died ten years ago.”



Rachel began to feel queasy. She covered her mouth and let herself recover slightly before asking the next question. “Did she … I mean they … they have sex?”



“Not that we could find out,” D.I Jones said. “But that’s not to say that it didn’t cross his mind occasionally.”



“That really is disgusting.”



“Then you come into his classroom; the exact image of his mother, whom he loved in a disgusted, perverted fashion, and starts to fantasise.”



“What can drive a person to do that?” she asked as she stared at the photograph again. “Mind you, it sounds like they were both sick.”



“Yes, we’re sorry Miss Snow,” D.I Jones said. “But you had to know what the motive was.”



“Thank you, Detective Inspector Jones,” Rachel said faintly.



“Just carry on with your life,” Allen said. “Don’t think that all men are as sick as this!”



Rachel smiled at the young officer. “I already know that Officer.”



The Police Officers stood up and Mary showed them the way out. She came back and cleared away the tea things.





^*^*^*^



The prison officer strode down the hallway, his keys jangled against his side as he reached the cell door. He turned around and looked at the man in front of him. He didn’t look like a Psychiatrist, he was too well dressed and cultured. He shook his head and let the older gentleman through the door pocketing the money slipped into his hand.



“You can’t be too long, sir,” the Officer said.



“I’ll knock when I’m finished,” the suave gentleman replied.



Mr Brace was lying on his bed and got up as soon as the gentleman walked into the room. “How did you find out?” he asked with a perplexed expression on his face.



“Someone informed me,” he replied dispassionately. “You failed.”



“I was this close!” Brace said holding up one of his hands and held his forefinger close to the pad of his thumb.



“What happened?” the man asked.



“A Mr Green burst into the room,” Brace said. “He was an ex-student.” He sighed; “I never liked him!”



“And you couldn’t stand up for yourself?” The man leered. “You couldn’t fight against this youth,” he smiled coldly. “What kind of a man are you?” He walked around the cramped cell. “Solitary confinement?”



“For my own protection, apparently!”



“Do you feel particularly suicidal?” the man asked.



Brace staggered slightly and went to lunge at the man. “You promised her to me,” he said shaking his visitor by the lapels of his jacket. “You promised her to me!”



“Well, you could have taken her, but you didn’t!”



“I had it all worked out! I was going to kidnap her.”



“You obviously didn’t want her enough,” the man replied. He dug inside his jacket pocket and brought out a gun. He was wearing gloves. He tossed it at Brace’s feet. He then brought out a pad and pen. “You will write a remorseful, regretful note to the poor girl and do the decent thing, and shoot yourself. I don’t have time for people who can’t be bothered to help themselves.”



“But ... !”



The man knelt down and looked into Brace’s eyes. “Really, Simon, I thought you were a better human being. If you truly love her, then you may as well show that to her by doing the honourable thing.”



Brace shivered. Tears fell from the corner of his eyes. His fingers shook as he wrote the note and he handed it to the man when he finished and the man placed it in an envelope with her address already written on it. He picked up the gun and wrapped Brace’s fingers around the handle and placed his finger on the trigger. He pointed the barrel in Brace’s ear, and he smiled before he pulled the trigger. The bullet ripped through the man’s skull and he was instantly dead. The man stepped away and knocked on the door so that the Officer the other side of the door could let him out. The Officer walked into the cell and saw Brace lying there in a pool of blood.



“What happened here?” the Officer asked.



“He simply couldn’t live with what he had done to that poor little girl,” the man said. “I tried to talk him out of it.”



“Wow,” the Officer whistled. “I guess there was some human in him after all.”



The man smiled. “He wrote this, make sure it makes it to the girl. She needs to know.” The man handed the Officer the hastily written suicide note. The Officer pocketed it, and then led the man out of the prison.



“I hope that he goes to hell!” the Officer said.



The man sighed. “Undoubtedly.”



^*^*^*^



Rachel had just put the phone down. She walked into the kitchen where her grandmother was cooking their dinner. Her grandmother offered her a small bit of raw pastry. Rachel smiled; she dipped it in sugar, and ate it.



“Who was that, dear?”



“It was the Head Warden at the Prison,” Rachel said. “He said that Brace committed suicide.”



“Coward,” Mary snorted.



“He had a visitor, his psychiatrist,” Rachel explained. “A Dr Green, something like that. Anyway, the Doctor assured the Officer in charge that he did all he could to stop him but he didn’t succeed. Brace had secreted a gun into the prison and shot himself.”



Mary sighed and placed the top over the chicken and mushroom pie and glazed some milk on it. She decorated the top with some of the spare pastry, and placed it to one side to deal with the chocolate cake mix. Rachel wondered how she did it. Mary scraped most of the mix into the cake tins, once she had finished she handed the bowl to Rachel.



“Well, at least that’s one less scumbag to worry about in this world.”



Rachel nodded. She scraped the left over mix gratefully. She went to the sink and started running the water and she smiled as she picked up the sponge. She was glad to be free of him forever.



^*^*^*^



Rachel had returned home that night after dinner with her grandmother. She brought home the rest of the chicken pie her grandmother had made and her family ate it for dinner that night. She had told them what had happened to Brace and then she had a bath and went to bed. Once all three children were settled and quiet Heidi sighed:



“I have to give up my job,” she said.



George turned around startled. “What?” he asked, blinking. “What are you on about? You love your work.”



“Yes, but I love my kids more,” Heidi said. “George, where was I when my daughter needed me the most?”



George shrugged his shoulders. “I have no idea.”



“I was talking to a complete stranger about their bedroom!” Heidi exclaimed. “I was getting more concerned about whether chintz or cream was more appropriate! That’s what I was doing when that bloody psychopath almost raped my daughter!”



“Heidi,” George said in a placating tone. “I am sure Rachel understands.”



“Really? Really?” she asked. “The person she asked for was your mother. Not her mother.” She switched the television off. “I feel I failed her, George. No,” she said in a final tone. “I will fail her if I don’t quit my job. Then who’s going to be next? Frank? Debbie? I can’t do that!”



“Aren’t you overreacting just a little bit?”



“I don’t think so,” Heidi replied. “I am going to advertise my business around the circuit. As soon as the right person comes along it’s sold.”



“If you say so, Heidi, but I think you’ll just be bored being a housewife.”



“I’ll have to find some hobbies then, won’t I?” she said.



George shrugged his shoulders. “It’s up to you, dear, it’s just that I don’t see you being fully satisfied as a stay-at-home mum.”



“I’d be less satisfied if something truly bad happened to our daughter whilst I was working for some obnoxious client,” Heidi said hotly. George’s eyes twinkled.



“Shall we go to bed?” he asked.



She looked at her husband, she was about to start again until she saw the twinkle in her husband’s eye, and thought better of it. “Okay,” she grinned. He took her hand and they practically galloped up the stairs.



^*^*^*^



The next day dawned clear and bright; the frost sparkled on the ground and Rachel looked out of her window and smiled. She had planned to meet Hank and Ralph at Toni’s Espresso. She walked down the stairs. She spotted the post lying on the floor. She picked them up and there was the first influx of Christmas cards sent from old school and college friends of her parents.



There were a few catalogue bills for her mother, some bank statements, and a letter for her. She walked into the kitchen and laid the post in separate piles on the table and put the kettle on. She opened her envelope and screamed!



The scream woke up her parents. Her mother ran down the stairs and found her daughter shaking slightly. She walked up to her daughter and grabbed her and hugged her. George got the mugs out and placed teabags in the pot.



They led their daughter to the nearest chair and sat her down. “What’s the matter, sweety?” Heidi asked.



Rachel held out a note and George took it. He scowled and handed it to his wife. She hissed as she read it.



Dearest Rachel;



You haunt my dreams. The thought of never having you makes my heart stop beating and if I can never have you then I may as well stop living.



My unfulfilled passion for you has driven me to commit my life to the grave.



Simon Brace



“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Heidi asked.



“I’ll be fine,” Rachel said. “I’ll be with Ralph and Hank.”



George handed Rachel a cup of tea and she accepted it gratefully. “Thanks dad,” she said. “I think I’ll take this upstairs.”



When Rachel left the room Heidi turned to her husband and arched an eyebrow up at him. “See!” she said. “I have to give up my job, my children need me.”



George nodded and gave his wife her drink. “You maybe right,” he said. “That note made me want to kill him.”



“You can’t kill a dead person,” Heidi sighed rubbing her forehead.



“You can have a bloody good go of it though,” George said.



Heidi laughed. “Don’t worry about it, George.”



Rachel came downstairs half an hour later with a clean and dressed baby sister, and Frank followed shortly. Heidi had poured three cereal bowls out and gave her son the bowl. She took Deborah out of her sister’s arms.



“Come on, Debbie,” Heidi said. “Let Rachel eat her breakfast.”



“It’s all right, mum, I don’t mind.”



“No, Rachel, don’t worry. I’ve got Debbie.”



Rachel shrugged her shoulders and ate her cereal. “Okay, so I think I’ll be out all day with Hank and Ralph.”



“All right honey,” Heidi said. “Just try and be at your gran’s at five.”



Rachel rolled her eyes. “So, which one is your boyfriend?” Frank asked.



Rachel kicked her brother under the table. “Shut up, squirt!” she hissed.



In truth, she didn’t know which one she fancied the most. Hank was a nice guy; he was sweet, and lovely. He wasn’t bad looking, and he always stood up for her even at risk to himself. Ralph, on the other hand, was tall, dark, and handsome. He had something that Rachel was particularly drawn to, yet there was a clear age gap that bothered her.



“Ouch! Mum, Rachel kicked me!”



“Oh don’t be such a wuss!”



“Rachel, Frank!” Heidi snapped. They shut up. Their mother only took that tone when she wanted to talk to them. Frank stopped whining, and Rachel stopped wondering about which one of her friends she fancied the most. “Thank you. Now, I have decided that I am not going to work anymore.”



“WHAT!” they both exclaimed. “Why?”



“I just feel that one of us should be available for when you really need us. Your father can’t give up his job but I can give up mine.”



Rachel chewed her lower lip and exchanged a glance to her younger brother. “Well, mum, are you sure you’re going to be all right?”



“I’ve got a plan,” Heidi replied.



Rachel went back to eat her cereal. Frank walked out of the kitchen after he ate his cereal. Rachel looked at her mother. “It’s because of what happened to me, isn’t it?”



“Don’t blame yourself Rachel,” Heidi sighed.



“But you love to work,” she said.



“I love you more.”



She smiled at Rachel and looked her up and down. “You look nice.”



“Thanks, mum,” she said. She couldn’t believe her mother was going to sacrifice her dreams for her. Rachel ran up to her and hugged her mum.



“Go on with you!” Heidi said picking up her colour and swatch books. “And don’t tell anyone!” Her mother slipped a couple of twenty pound notes into her daughter’s hand. “That’s just for you to spend on yourself.”



Rachel smiled. “You are the best mum in the world!”



^*^*^*^



Heidi dropped Rachel off at Toni’s and she drove off to her client. Hank and Ralph were sitting in there already. She walked in and walked right up to them and sidled in next to Hank. Hank immediately put his arm around her shoulders and rubbed her back. Rachel appreciated the gesture.



She noticed that there was already a steaming cup of coffee for her. She smiled at the two boys and snuggled closer to Hank. She felt warm and safe next to him; she knew that he’d look after her.



“How are you?” Ralph asked.



“Fine considering,” she sighed. Hank stroked her hair. “He committed suicide yesterday. So, he’s completely out of the way. I can sleep at night.”



“Coward!” Ralph spat.



“That’s what my gran said,” Rachel replied.



“Your grandmother is a very wise woman,” Ralph said.



They sipped their coffee. “Why?” Hank asked.



Rachel took the note out of her bag and showed her other two friends. They both gagged and gave it back to her.



“He was one deranged man,” Ralph said bluntly.



“That’s not the half of it,” she muttered. She had no idea how she was going to reveal the true depths of Brace’s depravities to her friends without throwing up, oh well; she went for the gung ho approach. “Has either of you two heard of the Oedipus Complex?”



Hank shook his head. Ralph narrowed his eyes and paled slightly as he sipped his coffee. “Vaguely.”



“Well basically it’s when a boy develops an attraction to his mother,” she shivered a little. “Apparently he shared a bed with his mother right up until she died in 1979.”



Ralph shuddered. Hank turned away trying hard to keep his stomach contents in. “I knew there was something freaky about him.”



“So what does that have to do with you?” Hank asked when he had calmed down. Rachel drew her coat about her and took a sip of coffee.



“Well, that is the scariest thing,” she said. “Apparently I looked exactly like his mother.”



Hank tilted his head to one side. “That’s bizarre,” he said. “There seems to be a lot of look-alikes popping up.”



“Why?” Ralph asked.



“Well, when you first came to us my grandfather didn’t want us to be friends because you reminded him of someone.”



“It couldn’t have been someone that he liked very much,” Ralph said with a hollow laugh. “You know I wish your grandfather did like me.”



“I’m sure he does, Ralph, he knows you enough by now to realise you care about us.”



Ralph shook his head and a thick dark lock fell over his brow. He laughed. “Hank, I thought we got through to you that just because you like me doesn’t mean the rest of the world will.”



Rachel looked between the two boys and sipped her coffee quietly. She sighed. “I wonder if you look exactly like someone, Hank?” she asked.



“I don’t think I have reminded anyone of anyone else so far!” he said. “I don’t think I want to. But I did overhear a conversation between my grandfather and Uncle Mark that day. My Uncle said that if my father and mother did chuck you out then he and my aunt would have taken you in.”



“Really?” Ralph said. “That might have been fun!”



Hank shook his head. “Well, you’d have been saddled with Julia for a little sister.”



“Would that have been bad?”



“Philip keeps trying to get me to swap Anna with her.”



Rachel gasped. “That’s horrible!”



“No it isn’t,” Hank said. “Phil loves Julia really, he’s just very fond of Anna.”



“Hmm, that worries me somewhat!” Ralph said.



Hank shrugged his shoulders. “It’ll sort itself out eventually.”



“I don’t think I’ve met your cousins,” Rachel said.



“Come over sometime this Christmas,” Hank said. “You can meet them then.” He sipped some more of his coffee and sat back with a puzzled frown on his face. “There was something strange about that conversation,” he continued. “They kept calling each other different names. Mark called Grampy, Karl; and Grampy called Mark, Manfred!”



Ralph did the maths in his head. “That was three years ago!”



“So.”



“So, why haven’t you asked them about it?”



“Why should I?” Hank said. “They have a reason why they changed their names, and I don’t want to interfere.” He got out his wallet to see if he had any money to buy another drink. “You know they kept mentioning two people in their conversation. They didn’t say the names of either of them. One was that man that you reminded them off, Ralph, and another was a female that I think my Grampy was in love with.”



“That’s a lot of curiosity to keep hidden for three years,” Ralph said.



“Not only that, they mentioned other names to,” Hank said. “Joachim, Hans, Herman … Adolf was definitely one of them. I think that’s it.”



“Don’t those names strike you as odd,” Rachel said. “All of them are the first names of people that were in the Nazi cabinet.”



“The odds of my grandfather and Uncle have of being Nazis are the same as me joining the armed forces.”



Rachel giggled. She had an image of Hank in Soldiers uniform and it didn’t suit him at all.



“Why’d you say that?” Rachel asked.



“Well,” Hank said. “Louisa seems to have developed a crush on one of her lecturers. He’s actually a born and bred African. He’s called George,” Hank said. “Apparently, she blushes whenever she talks about him.”



“That’s sweet,” Ralph said. “Louisa’s really nice. She deserves someone to look after her.”



Rachel smiled. “What about Julia?”



“What about Julia?” Hank asked. “She’s a pain in the neck!”



“Leave it out, Hank, she’s not that bad. In fact she worries me somewhat,” Ralph said. “I know she’s not my flesh and blood but I want to make sure she’s all right, and the rate she’s going something bad could happen to her. She’s far too open.”



“She just feels that everything can be healed with a hug and squiggle!” Hank explained.



“Squiggle?” Rachel asked.



“It’s sort of a fiercer hug,” Ralph said. “It’s quite nice actually.”



Rachel sighed. Julia sounded really nice, and very pretty. She got creeps like Brace after her. She looked at the way that Ralph’s eyes went when he spoke about this Julia and it made her slightly jealous.



She had met Ralph first, after all, and he had just rescued her from a fate worse than death. She realised that possibly it may be Ralph that she did fancy.



A/N = This chapter was possibly the hardest to write so far as it shows obsession at a very dark level. Please, click the link below if you liked it and say what it is about this story that you do like!