The Montgomery House

One

Northumberland, 2018. 

Present Day. 

The soft patter of the rain against his oversized umbrella soothed him as he gazed upon the mahogany roof of his mother's coffin; adorned with white tulips, Jackson sighed bitterly when the undertakers began silently lowering it into the ground. Taking a handful of dirt, Jackson threw it into the earth, bidding his mother a final silent farewell, he turned and retreated towards town.

The grief he'd been too angry to feel since he'd received the call about his mother's untimely death reared its ugly head now that the service was over. Angry with his perceived inadequacy as a son, Jackson quietly berated himself as he made his way from the cemetery into the valley that held the small town of Hollifield.

Following the gentle descent of the river, the small inconsequential town of Hollified, lay nestled within the natural valley of three of the region's highest peaks. Once a thriving weavers' town, the town's community and economy had flourished alongside the nation's wool trade. But as the demand for wool declined, so did the town until eventually cut off from the local motorway by an expanse of farmland which stretched over ten miles it was left to die.

Forgotten by the major towns and cities the inhabitants of Hollified stood resolute, determined to remain within their generational homes, they'd created a town which was self-sufficient to this day.

Sure, like any other town things changed, time marched on and the town for the most part marched with it. Families moved or simply died out, buildings were torn down and the old made way for the new. But despite or perhaps in spite of all that, the town had retained its old-world charm. Neighbours still knew each other by name, children frolicked safely under the protective gaze of the town elders and a sense of community still thrived here.

Names, some he recognised and others he didn't caught his attention as he gazed around him at the sea of graves adorned with flowers. Who would place flowers on his mother's grave after he returned to Essex? Who in this tight-knit community would miss her? No one he realised.

Overwhelmed by grief and guilt he'd barred everyone but himself, the priest who performed the service and his attendants from the funeral. But now that he thought about it, no one had put up much of a fight either. Sighing with pity as he realised how isolated his mother had become... or rather how isolated she'd made herself, Jackson walked along the lamp-lit street, his feet following paths he never thought he'd venture along again.

Stopping on the corner where he'd shared his first kiss with Isobelle Jenkins, Jackson took in the town square which sprawled out around him smiling at the wave of nostalgia that hit him. Mr Appleton's sweet shop was long gone he noticed, replaced by a thriving local farmers' shop come convince store, he wondered how long it had taken the town council to get that approved. He still remembered the time he'd bitten into a particularly sticky chocolate bar from Mr. Appleton's, only to lose a tooth when he withdrew it, his father had been furious about the cost of the subsequent trip to the dentist.

Shaking his head he chuckled at the memory of pre-teen him and Scott hanging around outside Mr Goldsborough's off-license on a Friday night desperately trying to persuade some teenagers to sneak in and steal them a bottle of whiskey each.

When they'd finally been caught out by an irate Mr Goldsborough, Mr Rhodes had threatened to spank him as well if he ever caught them hanging around outside the shop again. Luckily for him though he'd taken pity on him and not told his parents, though he was sure Scott was walking funny for three days after.

Ashamed now and not for the first time that he'd prioritised work and not come out for Mr Rhodes's funeral, Jackson sighed and looked around for a sign which would point him in the direction of the local pub. Frustrated by the lack of one, he picked a direction and was about to set off when he spotted a hunched figure moving across the square towards him. Swearing under his breath as he was sure it was going to be another well-wisher, he wondered if he could get away with ducking into the open doorway of the textile shop. 

Shaking himself when he realised how childish that would look, he resigned himself to yet another awkward encounter. Fixing a smile on his face, he squinted into the rain, trying to place the broad figure looming over him as he approached.

"Jack?..." The man, no older than he asked tentatively.

Clearing the rain out of his eyes, Jackson squinted at the figure as he tried to match the voice to the face.

"yeah..." he answered wearily.

Seemingly relieved to have found the right person, the man smiled as he exhaled a breath. Kind blue-grey eyes surveyed him from underneath a blue Manchester City cap. "It's me... Scott..." He answered enthusiastically when Jackson made no sign of recognition.

"Scott..?!" Hardly able to believe his eyes, Jackson blinked stupefied. The contrast between the boy of his memories and the man standing over him made him dizzy. "Wow!" he stammered, "You grew!" nervously chuckling to himself.

"Yeah," He nodded, his brow raising quizzically at the pale, slightly befuddled man in front of him. "I guess we both did... look, Jack, I heard what happened to your mum. I'm sorry man."

Nodding Jackson shrugged nonchalantly, unable to cope with yet another heart-wrenching conversation with yet a well-meaning, well-wisher.

"I had no idea you were still in town?" Jackson supplied, desperate to change the subject.

Sensing his old friend's unease, Scott shoved his hands into his pocket, happy to let the conversation flow into easier territory.

"Yeah... well I live over on Walker Street, in my parent's old place. Mum moved to Manchester after Dad died to be closer to Chrissy, Mike and the kids."

Smiling, as they slid into the easy conversation and companionship of old friends, Jackson nodded as his memory took him back to the small but feisty brown-haired girl of eight who used to follow them around on weekends, nagging at them to tell her ghost stories.

"That's right," Said Jackson, hardly able to believe it himself. "Your sister, she has what... three now?"

"Five" Corrected Scott.

"Five! How does she keep up?"

"Well," Laughed Scott. "She has Mike... he's a good guy and he loves those kids."

Feeling a little awkward as they stood on the corner in the rain, Jackson fiddled with the handle of his umbrella as he contemplated the last few days.

Clearing his throat he looked up at Scott who stood watching him with sympathetic, patient eyes. "I was heading for the pub... you up for a pint?" He mumbled, unsure whether he wanted the company or not.

Not likely to pass up a pint Scott nodded and chuckled following the direction Jackson was about to head off in with his eyes. "If you're heading for the pub, you won't find it going that way."

"The Watering Hole... " He paused, his eyes narrowing at the look on Jackson's face. "well that's what they call it" he bit out.
"It's that way." He said, gesturing with a slight lift of his chin down a long narrow street, Jackson couldn't remember ever having ventured down before.

Falling into step with Scott's easy pace, they moved off in search of the pub. Matching his stride to Scott's leisurely one, Jackson eyed Scott warily as he stepped carelessly into the road when the path grew too narrow, grumbling good-naturedly at passing motorists who honked at his stupidity.

"I can walk behind you if it'd be easier," Jackson offered.

Laughing Scott shook his head and waved him off. "No need pal this is Hollifield. If they want me to move they'll just have to run me over."

Chuckling at his own joke, Scott shot Jackson a mischievous grin as he continued to saunter down the middle of the road. Unsure whether he was serious or not, Jackson was immensely relieved when they rounded the last corner and the pub came into view.

Tiny, ancient-looking and weather-worn, Jackson stopped and squinted; wondering how a building of its size even held a bar.

His scepticism must have shown on his face as a moment later Scott roared with laughter and moved off towards the pub.

"It's like the Tardis" he called over his shoulder before disappearing through the front door.