Chapter 33

The sun shone high in the cloudless blue sky as he stood, out of sight, on a hill watching from behind a tree. Overwhelmed by how many people had remembered, he was both surprised and humbled. Focusing on the tears flowing down the cheeks of the ones he loved congregated around the plaque, every part of him become saturated with guilt and he wanted to run down to hold them. Made up of every colour of the rainbow, the floral tributes were beautiful. Gone but never forgotten had been spelled out in daffodils. The service was only thirty minutes long, but that was thirty minutes more than he thought it would be, or deserved. As the crowd started to leave, cautiously, he slid fully behind the tree out of sight. Now was not the time to be noticed. After the last teary-eyed mourner had left the haloed ground, he moved swiftly to the plaque. Picking up each card in turn, the one that hit him the most read, you loved the ocean, now rest in peace within its tranquil arms.

It had been three years since the search for the last body of the plane crash had been finalised and filed as lost at sea, but this was the first time Dan had attended his own memorial service.

Standing up, smoothing the creases from his trousers, he listens intently. The sound of the wind blew softly through the trees, as though to caress and calm each fragile leaf. Closing his eyes, the deathly silence, broken only by the loving chorus of birdsong, calmed him. Wiping his now sodden cheeks, he turns to leave. Trudging his way up the grassy slope to the road, he pauses. A lone figure peering out from behind a mausoleum was staring directly at him. The figure, dressed in black, had his features covered by a low worn baseball cap. Desperately throwing his hand up to cover his face, Dan turns sharply, quickens his pace, and makes for the other exit.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid" he spits through gritted teeth.

"How could I have let my guard down?"

Three years of living like a hermit, like a vampire only venturing out at night, was now possibly wasted. He didn't know who the person could be. Man or woman, it didn't matter, if they had recognised him he would soon hear of it.

Dan was always glad to get back to the caravan. Three years of solitude had made his senses unaccustomed to crowds of people and everyday noise. Every voice, every revving car engine that he endured, sent shock waves through his body and felt like being zapped with a Taser. Completely naked, he stands in front of the mirror mounted on the wardrobe door. Eyeing his reflection from toe to head, he felt disgusted. It was obvious that the time in the caravan had taken its toll. His body had lost the rugged toned shape it once had. Now it resembled a man thirty years older, with skin hanging loosely off the bone. The lines, bags and darkness under his eyes told the tale of the sleepless nights. Staring directly into his own eyes, he found nothing. Gone was the glint and shine that they used to hold, replaced with no emotion, blackness and without a soul.