John the Revelator by Peter Murphy Page B

night when he was out in the barn with the headphones on, I caught the last two lads loading gear into the van. They asked me to come with them, but I wouldn’t.’
    â€˜Why not?’
    â€˜I just couldn’t. I thought things would get better when the spring came. But they didn’t. They only got worse. He tore up all these rubbish sacks and hung them over the windows. He said the RAF Harriers flying overhead were sent from a base to spy on us because we knew the truth. That the government was in the employment of the AntiChrist. Then he changed his mind and said the pilots of the planes were angels sent to watch over us. Then he decided the Third World War had already happened and the planes were remote controlled and they had government people on board, and they would just keep on refuelling over the earth until it was safe to land again. He warned me not to leave the farm or I couldn’t come back cos I’d be poisoned from the radiation.’
    â€˜And you believed him?’
    â€˜I didn’t know what to believe. When you’re locked up with a sick person, John, you lose your grip on what’s real. It’s like wandering into a forest, and you stray so deep into the trees you lose your bearings. You don’t know where to even start looking for a way back.
    â€˜Anyway, one night he was so crooked from the want of sleep he accidentally wiped a whole reel, weeks of work, and he came in and started throwing things around. He upended the table and a glass broke and nearly sliced my bare foot open. When I told him to calm down he raised his hand as if to strike me. That’s when I decided to leave. If not for myself, for the baby.
    â€˜I was about ten weeks gone. I was afraid that when I started to show, he’d never let me leave. The state he was in, he would’ve thought I was going to give birth to Our Lord.’
    She shivered a bit and pulled her cardigan tight around her shoulders.
    â€˜When I realised the condition I was in, I packed my bag and waited for the right time to make a move. He passed out one night after working about three days straight, so I took what money there was and sneaked out the door and ran down the lane. My heart was pounding. I was trying not to breathe too hard in case I took in poisonous gases. I sniffed the air for smoke and looked up at the sky to see if the world was covered with clouds of ash. I didn’t meet a soul for ages and I was starting to wonder if the whole world was dead or not. Then I saw a man coming up the road, and half his face was covered in a big purple rash. I couldn’t stop staring at it. I asked him was it from the fallout, and he said, “No, love, I’ve had it my whole life, it’s just a birthmark.”
    â€˜I stayed in the village that night and next day I hitched a lift south. I worked in a market in Edinburgh for a few weeks. I thought about him the whole time, wondering if he’d come after me. To tell you the god’s honest truth, I was angry when he didn’t. And I got vexed with myself and swore I’d never put my trust in another man again.’
    Her face looked like it might crack into a hundred pieces.
    â€˜I saved my money until I had my fare home. When I arrived back, the door was shut in my face. Here I was showing up large after not sending word in months. I was afraid. I didn’t know the first thing about childbearing. So I took a job as a maid in the hotel near the strand. That’s where I met Phyllis Nagle. She was a quare old bird, but she was the only one who’d help me. I told her the fix I was in and she said she wouldn’t see me stuck and found a caravan for me to rent. I worked until I was too far along to work any more. And when the time came, I had you. You were the savings of me.’
    She stubbed out her cigarette and nodded, as if agreeing with herself.
    â€˜When you have a child, John, something changes in you. You’re never free