Tír nAill : Part one.

1.

Norma could feel some ancient childhood terror stir in her gut as she turned onto the North Road. The words on the sign were like some magic incantation, a spell, warning Norma to turn back. She couldn't, it was her Dad's 70^th birthday and though she'd not been in Duntreath for more than 20 years she considered staying away unfair if not cruel to her father, who'd recovered from his second stroke six months before.

Norma wanted to see the old man more than anything, had even offered to buy her Mum and Dad a flat in Manchester, near her, so they could spend more time together. They refused politely, they'd been in Duntreath a long time and were stuck. They wanted to leave less than she wanted to come back, but come back she had.

Civilisation, traffic and the road thinned out leaving her bordered by rolling fields and sporadic factories abandoned and left to rot. A sign informed her she had 26 miles to her destination and the churning nervousness in her gut got worse when she read that. The fear had become tangible. When she'd been back home it had been only of an intellectual quality. She didn't know why she was so frightened of going to Duntreath, she just was. However, as the town got nearer, her brain seemed to sense it and rather than comfort her, went along with it. She could feel her hands sweat and her pulse gently thump in her ears.

In the distance, she could see the large mound-like hills obscuring the horizon, something was hiding behind them, something that had so scared her that he'd left Duntreath for Glasgow shortly after her sixteenth birthday. She could not recall the events that had led to her departure, remembering only that she'd become the youngest student in her year at Glasgow University. From there she could recall everything, her drug and booze filled student years, her debts, her relationship with Jessica that ended badly, her subsequent courting of Stephanie, their eventual marriage, and above all her job, her job, her job. Her fucking job. It was a tyrant, it dominated her life, her time, everything. Even getting three days off to come to her father's birthday was a struggle. She'd left young Hopkins in charge and prayed the kid had the ability Norma thought he had. She scolded herself for thinking about work again and changed the topic back to mining her memory for the source of her phobia about his home-town.

Duntreath: 18 Miles. She was approaching the hills, watching the road veer in a long curve to the left and disappear behind them. Her phobia -or whatever it was- did not seem to be getting any worse, nor could she say it was getting any better. The light touch of nausea that came from the rolling in her stomach had turned to heartburn and her stomach still refused to settle. She could not figure out what it was she was so concerned about. Something had happened, she was sure of that, something that caused her to leave and never come back. It began to torture her as she pushed the wheel slightly and joined the curve that took her behind the hills. It just past the next sign that she saw a familiar sight.

Norma felt compelled to pull up, park at the roadside and just stare at it. How could she have forgotten it? She walked over to it, across perhaps half a mile of damp wild grass and nettles. She placed her hand on the chain link fence that stretched on as far as the eye could see and she read the faded and rusting sign, out loud.

“M.O.D.

KEEP OUT!

This facility is regularly patrolled.

Trespassers will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.”

Beyond the fence was a wilderness of grass and weeds and in the distance, was the Facility itself. It was one of those weird places you might occasionally spot on your travels off the main roads and motorways, it had a large cluster of aerials, a dirty old geodesic dome and four blocks, two which were stacked on top of each other. It had the impression of being designed by some Stalinist futurist and was about as archaic as both such populist movements. The dome was seemingly missing some of its parts. Black triangular holes pock-marked it and Norma even saw some birds flying out from the innards. To her surprise she could hear the weird electrical thrumming from the aerials and wondered if they were some kind of microwave transmitter things like you might see in the city on top of the odd high rise. Whatever the place had been, it no longer looked occupied.

Norma got back into her car and started the engine. Her heart was punching against her ribs like a pneumatic drill against tarmac, she fumbled with the keys as she tried to start the engine and gasped with joy when the car started.

Duntreath. 12 miles. The closer she got the more she began to remember of the life she had fled. The names of long forgotten school-teachers and classmates came bubbling up out of the dark depths. Flotsam memories of playground bickering, summer holidays even the awful, boring town fêtes surfaced in her mind. She began to see the shape of the thing that caused her to leave, a great ugly shadow, deep down, she'd thought long drowned. Norma turned on the radio, trying to avoid what was surfacing. The asinine, chirpy banter of the disc-jockey and his terrible attempts at humour were punctuated by terrible songs she'd not heard in as long as she'd been away from Duntreath which added to the dreadful sense she had of going back in time.

7 Miles out the radio began hissing and crackling as Norma drove through a narrow valley at first she thought it was a lack of reception, caused by the high hills on either side, that was until another signal cut through As distorted as the original broadcast, she could barely make anything out but it sounded like the signal from a distant numbers station, or perhaps a countdown. Suddenly through the white noise and electronic screeching came a clear, English male voice, just for a moment.

“… Quadrant of Loug, purged… Beginni...”

It vanished back into the static, moments before the radio went silent, then the engine. Norma was horrified as the car began to slow. She tried the accelerator and then the ignition but there was nothing, the car was dead. She veered towards the edge of the road uttering a litany of curses, both traditional and novel, most of which were directed towards her car. At the side of the road, with the huge pine tree covered hill sloping above her she picked up her phone and was thankful that she at least had a partial signal. She used it to find a garage and phoned to get towed into town.

It took twenty minutes before a tow truck turned up. The vehicle was rust brown and perhaps as old as she was. The driver seemed vaguely familiar, a man also roughly the same age. He got out and introduced himself. “Mrs Jenkins? I'm Tommy McAllister.”

“Hi, thanks for coming so quickly.” She said, smiling.

McAllister nodded as he chained her car to the back of his truck. Once that was done he opened the passenger side door and invited her to take a seat. She sat down strapped herself in.

“You wouldnae believe how often I'm called oot to this place” McAllister said, cheerfully. “Somethin' aboot the hills bein' heavily magnetised.”

“Is that so?” Norma said. “I never heard that.”

“Aye. Say, are you Henry Jenkins lassie?” McAllister asked.

“I am, aye. How did you guess?” Norma asked, knowing it was her hair. She'd always had massive ginger curls, once the source of much derision, it had become her pride.

“The hair.” he confirmed. “I used tae go tae school wae ye, was in the year below.”

He started the truck. “Here for your dad's birthday I take it?”

“Aye. It's been a while since I've seen him.” she answered.

“Been a while since you've been back home eh?” McAllister asked.

“I've not been back to Duntreath since I left twenty years ago.” She confirmed. The sickly dread was coming up again.

“I know, it's a small town, people talk.” McAllister said.

“I bet they do.” Norma replied, impatiently.

McAllister seemed to catch her annoyance and said nothing for a few moments, just drove and started at the road. Norma was pleased for the reprieve. She could feel the monster about to break the surface, the horrible forgotten past about to emerge like the creature from the black lagoon.

“You know Mickey Henderson died a few years back?”

And there it was. The name triggering the memory, the nightmare she'd spent her adult life evading. Michael Henderson, her first and only boyfriend, the boy she lost her virginity to, more out of curiosity and self-denial than anything else. Michael Henderson, the nervous sixteen year old who clumsily but earnestly did his best and, in doing so managed to fertilise her.

“Did he?” She said passively, most of her concentration focussed on subduing the urge to scream, to get out and run.

“Aye. He wis workin' for the company that took oor the auld MOD base. Wis so little left of the poor bastard that his folks couldnae even open the casket.”

“Oh.” Was all she could muster.

McAllister was surprised by that but shrugged. “I suppose it wis a long time ago, but...”

“But?” Norma asked.

“Well the story wis you left toon 'cause you got pregnant.” McAllister asked utterly unaware that he was treading all over the professional/ customer relationship.

“That's not a story. That was true.” Norma admitted.

McAllister looked at her. “Ah. Well as I said it was a long time ago.”

“Aye, it was.”

“So whit did ye hiv?” He asked.

“Eh?” Norma asked

“Whit did ye hiv, a boy or a girl?” McAllister asked.

“Ahh… I had an abortion.” Norma answered, curtly. Hoping such finality would be the end of it.

McAllister's eyes widened and went back to staring at the road. He said nothing more after that, which Norma was incredibly grateful for. She was still trying to deal with the memories of Michael, her leaving, her abortion. It had all happened so fast that it had blurred into a nothing compared to her real life afterwards. She was sure, if she was the kind of person who loved to wallow in her miserable past, that she could probably get some moron with a psychology degree tell her she'd suppressed a trauma and blah blah blah, but it was so obvious as to banal. She'd suppressed it in order to function, so what? What was the answer, years of talking to said moron? Psychotropic drugs that would turn the world and her into a bland anodyne blur? No thanks.

She felt better after that bit of self analysis, realising the thing she had dreaded was not some horrible monster after all, but the perceptions of a confused sixteen year old girl, someone who was not her, but just a memory. “I'm sorry.” she said.

“Eh?” McAllister asked.

“I know you were just trying to make conversation. It's just, life gets a bit real sometimes eh?”

McAllister nodded. “You've nothing to apologise for, I was out of order.”

“You were just curious. No harm in that.” Norma said.

“Thanks.” McAllister said. “You're so like your dad, you just don't take any shit do you?”

“I don't, no.”

“I admire that. I'll buy you a drink at the party tomorrow.”

“I'll return the favour, I intend to get hammered. My partner doesn't like me drinking.”

“Oh that's right. You got married to another woman. I remember Henry showing me the wedding pictures. He was as proud as punch. She's a good looking woman if you don't mind me saying so.”

Norma smiled and felt that smile inside. “Stephanie wouldn't believe this.”

“What?” McAllister said also smiling as if it was infectious.

“She thinks people from small towns are small-minded.” Norma sighed.

“Some are but it's the 21^st Century. Only nutjobs and busybodies give a shite who people fall in love with.” McAllister answered.

“I think both could be just labelled arseholes, eh?” She asked.

McAllister laughed. “Too true.”

The rest of the journey, all ten minutes of it, was much more pleasant. Norma and Tommy spoke about their current lives and how both admired her dad. When they entered Duntreath, Norma was amazed how little had changed. The Bottling factory was still next to the football pitch of the small secondary school. Turning right onto Maxwell Street, she saw the old Black Bull pub, still with its old hand painted sign, next to it was the McArdle's Bakery, then the off-licence. The old video hire shop had been replaced with a tech shop, which had various laptops and mobile phones in the windows but as they turned the corner, she noticed that was the only shop which had changed. The bank at the corner of Main Street was still there, with its now antiquated ATM machine, Danielli's Fish and Chip shop also remained in business. It was as if time had not moved on since she had left. McAllister drove her right to her parents home and said he'd get the car running by the morning. Norma asked him how much she owed him but he refused to take her money, even after her insistence. She thanked him for his kindness and said she would see him tomorrow at the party arranged for her father.

Taking her bags and a deep breath she walked up the small front path, noticing her mother already at the window, waving excitedly. Norma gave her a warm smile and waited for the front door to open. It did, and behind it was her old dad. Despite having had two strokes he still looked the tall, sturdy, no-nonsense man he always had. He gave her a wink and said “Welcome home doll.”

Norma planted her bags on the ground and gave him a big, tight hug. “Hiya dad.”

Henry Jenkins kissed her cheek and picked up the bags. “Come on, your mother's made a lovely rabbit stew.”

That made her day. She loved nothing more than her mother's rabbit stew. “Brilliant.” She beamed.

2.

Unlike most of the rest of Duntreath, her old room did not remain the same as it was when she left. Her parents had redecorated, probably several times, turning it into a guest room. She couldn't wait to get to bed. It had been a long day and her belly was full of rabbit stew and red wine, which had left her tired but still buzzing. Her head was filled with her mother's gossip and her dad's daft jokes and crazy anecdotes which had also left her a bit stunned. She slipped out of her clothes and into the double bed.

As she lay there she kept thinking about her father's words when she mentioned Michael's death. “Aye,” he had said. “No' the first nor last neither.”

According to her old man, the private company, “Mantik”, who'd bought over the MOD land had hired quite a few people from the town and over the years there had been several fatal accidents. He was suspicious but Norma knew that such things were common in large industrial concerns, it was just because Duntreath was so small that it seemed questionable. She explained that to him but she knew he wasn't convinced. He seemed to think they were up to something iffy. She put it down to him getting old.

The bed was rather comfy but she still couldn't doze off, so she got her phone and headphones and found one of her favourite podcasts to listen to as she drifted off into sleep.

She awoke with a start, in the dark and confused by the metallic screeching noise that seemed to be deafening her. As she sat up she heard a voice, male, English and panicking.

“...Off. Jesus, turn it off, the frequency is all wrong. The monitors are going fuckin..”

She realised she was still wearing her headphones and plucked them out of her ears, wondering what the hell had just happened. After a few moments, when her heartbeat returned to normal she picked them up again and listened. Dan Carlin was still going on about the post-war nuclear arms race. She checked her phone and saw she'd been asleep for nearly three hours. Norma turned the phone off and tried to return to sleep. She lay there for about fifteen minutes when the thunder began. The loud rumbling echoed through the hills and valleys and Norma smiled. She loved thunderstorms. Getting out of bed, she stood at the window and watched for lighting. Three or four booming peals roared but she saw no lightning, not at first anyway.

There it was, a huge bright sheet flashed, so quickly it seemed to leave an after-image rather than be seen. Oddly it seemed to come from behind the big hills rather than the sky, leaving big dark irregular shadows in the back of her retina. As she waited for the next display she watched the rain begin, it sounded so different in the quiet of the town at night, unlike at home where there were always cars sloshing through it, making it sound like waves crashing against the shore. Here it sounded more like a sizzling, like someone frying food. There were no more rolls of thunder of flashes of lightning but she stood for a while watching and listening to the rain. She found it relaxing and soon found herself yawning. A few minutes later she lay back down in bed and closed her eyes.

Morning arrived and with it her mother tapping at her door. Norma could already smell breakfast floating into the room. Kippers, her dad's favourite. Norma had not had kippers since she'd left Duntreath and found herself salivating. She got dressed hastily and picking up the small wrapped box that contained her father's present she went downstairs. Her stomach rumbling, demanding the delicious smoked fish.

Her father was in the kitchen half hidden behind the morning's Herald, she walked over kissed him on the cheek and said “Happy Birthday Dad” before handing over the small wrapped box. He looked at it with a modicum of curiosity, smiled said thanks and began to carefully peel off the wrapper.

Norma was nervous, she hoped he would appreciate it, would get the meaning behind it but if not she had no doubt he would if she had to explain. Henry Jenkins placed the neat wrapping paper on the kitchen table and opened the small box. Inside was a set of old car keys with the a deteriorated leather fob with the Triumph logo on it. He chuckled. “That's brilliant. Where did you pick them up?”

“From the owner. Well the previous owner not the original owner.”

He looked at her with a puzzled look that changed into a dawning awareness. “You didn't?”

“I bloody well did, took me a while but I found your old Spitfire. It should be be getting delivered some time this afternoon.”

A broad smile appeared on her father's face and tears welled up in his eyes. “Norma, this… well. I don't know what to say but thanks. Thanks, darling.”

He turned to face the kitchen and shouted. “Agnes? Agnes, come here, you'll not believe what Norma did.”

Her mother came out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a cream dish-towel. “Wheest, I'm no' deef.”

He jangled the keys in front of her. “Remember these, doll?”

Agnes screwed her eyes up and stared at the keys. “A set of car keys?”

“My car keys, remember the old spitfire?”

Agnes laughed. “She never.”

Henry nodded. “She bloody well did.” he answered, mimicking his daughter.

Norma giggled. Her mother came over and kissed her on the cheek and ran her hand through Norma's curls. “You're a good lass Norma.”

Norma felt slightly uncomfortable so changed the subject. “Is that kippers I smell?”

Agnes smiled and nodded, toddled back into the kitchen and after a few seconds of clattering utensils and plates she came back through and placed the pungent fish on the table along with a round of toast. Norma thanked her and got stuck in while her father went back to his paper. She wolfed the lot in a matter of minutes and was delighted by the flavours, so many good memories evoked with every bite. For a moment she felt like she was home, like she was a young girl without a care in the world. It felt comfortable.

After breakfast her mother asked her to help her with a few things. She agreed, assuming her mum meant shopping. It wasn't until they walked down the road to the local community centre she realised her mother wanted to her to help prepare things for her father's party. This would have been fine if not for the handful of her mother's friends whom she had not seen for two decades and all of whom wanted to share every moment of that time and ask her a series of endless questions about what she had been up to since she left town. It was a chore to be sure, but she knew they were well-meaning and there was no horrified looks or rolling eyes whenever she brought up Stephanie. In fact, the women seemed as curious about her as they were Norma. They also took some modicum of pride in the fact that a girl from Duntreath escaped the provincial gravity and made a success of herself. After a few hours of making paper chains and decorating the room, as well as a few cheeky morning cocktails, Norma began to enjoy the women's company, they may have been older and a bit set in their ways but their patter was hilarious and they were far smuttier and down to earth than most of her own serious and reserved middle-class friends. By lunchtime she felt pretty hammered even though the older women seemed sober. They ordered in food from Danielli's and Norma had a steak pie supper which helped soak up the booze.

Around three o'clock she and the others became aware of a car horn outside, honking repeatedly and insistently. One of the older women, a plump old soul with a blue rinse, Clare McDonald, looked out of the exit -the place had no windows- and said “oooooooh!”

This acted as an alarm call and soon all the others were staring out of the doorway at Henry Jenkins, leaning out of his powder blue Triumph Spitfire. Once Agnes was visible, he gave her a wink and beckoned on her, to more “ooooohs” from her friends who immediately encouraged her to go out for a drive. Agnes, with an excited smile scooted out to cheers, and then, outside, gave the girls a cheeky thumbs-up, leaving Norma howling with laughter until tears ran down her cheeks.

They waved as Mr and Mrs Jenkins sped off and then got back to it.

Norma spent a time inflating various colours of balloons, listening to the idle gossip and being plied with more cocktails. There was some further hilarity when Mrs Clarence and Mrs MacLeod started jokingly berating each other when they realised one of the posters they were making said “Happy Brithday Henry.”

When Clare McDonald said she was nipping out for a smoke, Norma, who'd quit just after leaving college, asked if she could bum a cigarette and went out with her. Outside, it was damp and warm, odd weather for the end of September.

“Y'know, we're all so pleased you managed to get the hell out of Duntreath.” Clare confessed.

“What do you mean?” Norma asked, surprised by the frankness.

Clare puffed on her cigarette and said “There's no many lassies have left this toon and made a success of themselves. Most of the girls get knocked up and either stay here and become a housewife or end up working crappy jobs in one of the big cities. You run your own business, you're an independent, wealthy young woman, that's somethin' to be admired. We all think it.”

Norma smiled. “Well thank you.”

“No problem love.” Clare said, her eyes watching the white van which had just parked outside. “Oh, here they come.”

Two young lads, both about sixteen or seventeen got out, both were the spitting image of each other. One of them said “Alright Mrs Mac? We've got the DJ stuff here, where d'ye want it?”

“Inside would be great.” Clare answered with hint of sarcasm.

The boys nodded and went round the back of the van, opened the door and began hoisting out a variety of equipment. Norma was watching their attempts at lifting the mixing desk when Clare said. “The Peters twins, good lads, their dad died a couple of years back.”

“God, they're so young.”

“Aye. Got killed at work. That Mantik company.”

“Mantik?” Norma asked. The name seemed familiar.

“Yeah, the company that took over the old MOD facility down the road.”

“Ah, my dad was mentioning that, he said there'd been quite a few.” Norma replied.

“Aye, too many. The buggers don't really give a shit it seems.”

The boys passed them with the mixing desk and Norma gave them a smile but she was starting to feel really woozy from the nicotine and fresh air, and of course several Daiquiris. “I should go and lie down, I'm feeling pretty sloshed.”

“Aye, you go and get a rest, we'll finish this up here.” Clare said.

Norma took her advice.

3.

She had been dozing on the couch when her mother and father arrived back from their afternoon jaunt. Already she could feel a headache coming on and her mouth tasted like someone had made her drink paint. “Wh.. what time is it?” she groaned.

“Party time!” Her father said jovially. “Get your glad rags on sweetie.”

She winced. “Oh god, not so loud, dad.”

He smiled. “Those old bags get you pissed?”

“Don't call my girls old bags, Henry.” Her mother said scowling.

“Yeah, they can fair knock it away.” Norma admitted.

“Well,” Henry began, “away and splash some water on your face, your mum has the perfect antidote for that.”

Norma nodded and got up, headed upstairs to the bathroom and did indeed splash some water on her face, then brushed her teeth to get rid of the foul taste. Once she felt marginally more like herself, she nipped into the guest room and got changed into the dress she'd bought especially for the occasion. It looked good on her, a dark red with a subtly lighter red flowers. Looking at herself in the mirror she just thought she looked drunk, but it would have to do.

“Norma, are you okay up there?” Her dad's voice yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

“Coming!” She replied, trying to sound enthusiastic. All she wanted to do was go to bed.

She scuttled down the stairs and into the front room where her mother and father were both standing, her mother was pouring champagne into some long fluted glasses. “You look beautiful darling, doesn't she Henry?” Agnes said.

“She always does.” Henry answered.

“Thanks.” Norma replied, bashfully as her mother handed her one of the glasses.

“Get that down you, you'll feel better.” Henry said. Norma wasn't sure she would but shrugged and went to drink.

“Not yet!” Her mother exclaimed. “I want to make a toast.”

Henry rolled his eyes. “Agnes it's...”

“Shut up Henry.” Agnes insisted. She picked up her own glass. “Right. I just wanted to say that I love both of you and that, well... Happy Birthday darling.”

“Happy Birthday Dad.” Norma said, they raised their glasses and drank. Norma had never really been a fan of champagne, too dry, too fizzy, always over-rated. Still, she finished the glass.

Henry followed suit finishing it off with an almighty burp which caused her to giggle like a little girl. Funnily enough, the headache was shifting. “Dad!” she said in fake indignation.

Henry look at this watch. “Agnes, what time did you say this thing was starting?”

“Seven o'clock.”

“We'd better get moving then, it's quarter to.”

“Already?” Agnes answered looking at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece. I've still got my hair to do.”

“Never mind that. You know how huffy your gang will get if we're not there sharpish.” Henry said.

“Alright, alright just give me a moment.” Agnes said, dashing off upstairs.

Henry winked at Norma. “I wish Stephanie could have made it.”

“I know, she insisted you come down soon, she said she wanted you to teach her angling.”

“Hah, that's right, I did promise that didn't I?”

“You did. I've never heard the end of it. She's been looking forward to it for the last eighteen months.”

Henry craned his neck looking to see if Agnes was out of earshot and quietly said “How's the baby thing going?”

Norma looked a bit dismayed. “Well we've filled in all the appropriate paperwork but these things seem to take forever.”

“It'll take as long as it takes honey. Took us a good ten years before you came along and by God did we try.”

“Yeah, okay, that's a bit more information that I required.”

“Oh the things we did...” Henry joked.

“Dad!” Norma laughed. “Enough.”

At that Agnes came back downstairs and walked into the living room her coat already on and her handbag clutched in her hand. “Right, what's keeping you two?”

Her mother always did that, always demanded everyone wait for her then once she was ready, insisted that everyone else hurry up. Norma was pleased to see that hadn't changed either. “I'm ready.” she said.

The three of them walked the half mile to the community centre. The night was warm, humid but pleasant. On the way her mother regaled her with tittle-tattle about the Karen, the daughter of McArdle the baker, who had, apparently, married a German. That was the gist of the story, as if German was some kind of weird alien species hitherto unknown to be interested in matrimony.

They entered the hall. Her mother's friends had done a great job of making the musty grey hall look the part. There were already a few people sitting at the fold out tables and one of the Peters twins was behind the DJ booth, playing the unrepentantly cheesy “Love Will Keep Us Together.” On the space made into a dance-floor, a three or four year old girl bobbed along with utter obliviousness.

Henry sighed. “Christ, I suppose there's no chance he'll be playing anything good all night.”

“Shush.” Agnes demanded as those already there began to cheer at their arrival. The kid on the dance-floor remained engrossed in her little dance routine, even as around her people got up to give Henry their wishes. He took them all with good humour, shook a few hands took a few pecks on the cheek. Norma and her mother left him to hold court and get all the attention. They went and sat at the table reserved for them and birthday boy.

People began to dribble in, the Peters boy kept playing really old songs and the little kid kept dancing, which Norma found particularly entertaining. She really didn't know anyone and didn't want to be the homecoming attraction, especially not at her father's party. She said hello as she was introduced to people she didn't know or had faint recollections of but she didn't mind sitting quietly catching snippets of conversation and watching the proceedings unfold. After about half an hour, a woman her own age walked over to her. She had long straight black hair and looked every moment of her thirty six years. Norma recognised her as she approached, her old school friend Kelly. She stood up and greeted her with a smile. “God, Kelly, how are you?”

“Norma!” Kelly squealed giving her a big hug.

Instantly both of them began to rapid fire questions at each other and almost unconsciously headed towards the bar. Kelly, it turned out had got married, had a little girl, Candy, and had moved from Duntreath to Mulkirk, another nearby town. She had heard from a workmate that it was Henry's birthday and wanted to pay her respects, hoping that Norma might be there. Of course the two of them just had to catch up and so they sat at a quiet table and buzzed twenty years of information back and forth at an almost unintelligible pace. This then turned to reminiscences, old anecdotes of shared times, a lot of laughter and a lot of drinks. When Norma next looked up from their table, mostly to pause for breath, both the room and dance-floor were filled. The Peters lad had either become more confident in his musical choices or had been threatened by Henry to play something better. Whatever, it had worked. She recognised the song was by one of her Dad's favourite old bands, Squeeze. He was up doing his stiff, old, dad dancing with her mum. Tommy McAllister gave her a wave as he was dancing, with a petite woman that Norma guessed was his wife. “Oh my god, is that Tommy and Daisy?” Kelly gasped, and stood up and waved them over.

Tommy's eyes widened he spotted Kelly. He gestured to the small woman who glanced over and waved excitedly, dragging Tommy off the floor towards them. As they crossed the room a deafening sound stopped everything. The sound was so enormous that the entire building and floor shook, it was an overwhelming thing, a concussive, phasing clang which sounded like a nuclear bomb exploding inside a long metal pipe. Norma couldn't hear anything after that but a horrible ringing in her ears. It appeared no one could, but all of them, everyone in the room was already looking at the exit.

There was a nervous herd like movement towards the doors. The crowd tentatively heading towards the outside, as if they had somehow expected such a terrifying sound. Norma found herself heading out with them. Soon they were out in the entrance ramp looking out into the dark. Norma followed the direction of their gaze as the hubbub began to be audible again. There was some light moving towards the town. Some kind of electric-blue glow which danced like flames like aura surrounding the dark hills before swallowing them whole. Rapidly it washed over everything as it approached the town. The bottling factory, the football pitch and the school vanished and as it began to drown everything in its path. At that distance Norma could make it out as people began running back into the community centre.

It was no light.

Rather, as Norma perceived it, the phenomenon was like someone superimposing another world over reality, but one which was detuned, like a television station in which one could make out little but static and vague waving shapes. Only, this was not just white noise. It was a physical thing. A hint of something that might have been an expression of a tree or something similar emerged inside a car parked down the street and this unstable wavering form danced through the metal until the car was torn apart. The air was a murmuration of twinkling and dark exotic materials, of brick dust and glass. Norma felt someone pull on her arm. “Move for fuck sake.”

Norma moved.

Inside the community centre the speakers were spewing a cacophony of electronic squeaks, static hissing, a variety of snippets of voices. It made the already nervous people more on edge. Especially since most of them were in shock. Norma was at a loss as to what was happening, like it seemed mostly everyone was. Her father was in serious discussion with someone, a man in his forties with red hair. Despite her screwed up hearing and the noise, she heard him clearly say “Come on Henry, it's Mantik, whatever they're playing at they've fucked up.”

Others obviously heard this and there were yet others who began to vocally and angrily agree until there was many discussions drowning out the awful noise from the speakers. This was all punctuated by a heavy shuddering thump from outside which caused a few screams. Tommy McAllister who was closest to the door, opened it an inch and then slammed it back. He looked at the silent anticipating faces and shook his head. “It's all fucked out there.”

This was not an answer that anyone found controversial but it dampened the already bleak mood. “Now what?” said Clare McLeod.

Kelly seemed to have an idea. “Has anyone got a signal on their phones?”

Immediately, several dozen people rummaged through bags and pockets looking for their phones. A few seconds later Norma could see illuminated faces frowning as each realised they were out of contact with the rest of the world, if, indeed that world existed.

The walls of the community centre seemed to be coping with the duress of whatever was happening outside. She thought it fortunate that there were no windows in the place. The insane sight of that unstuck world was not something she wanted to see for any length of time.

“Hey!” cried a voice, excited and relieved. I've got a signal!” A young man she didn't recognise waved the phone in his hands.

“Give it here.” Her father ordered. The young man complied without any hesitation. “First things first, we contact the police.”

He thumbed the numbers and held the phone to his ear. She watched as Henry's eyebrows raised. “It's ringing.” he said.

There was a communal sigh of relief, which Norma thought a bit too presumptuous but she found herself crossing her fingers anyway.

“Yes...” Her father said, giving a thumbs up to the room “Hello? Yes. Police, please.”

Everyone seemed to be holding their breath as they waited. Norma felt a hand on her shoulder as all eyes were on her father. She turned and saw Kelly looking concerned. Kelly put her index finger on her lips and made a subtle gesture with her eyes, towards the exit. Norma saw what was concerning her, at the base of the door, was the weird static particles twinkling and eroding the bottom of the exit and slowly, like motes of dust blowing in the breeze, moving into the hall.

“Hello, police?… Yes My Name is Henry Jenkins I'm stuck with a bunch of people in Duntreath Community Centre there seems to have been some kind of environmental accident… Yeah? I see. Good. Yes there's about eighty of us, men, women and kids… Of course, none of us are going anywhere… Right. Right, okay, thanks. Okay I'll tell them.”

Silence, bated breaths, anticipatory eyes, everyone was waiting to hear the news. Henry took a pause for a few seconds. “Right, listen. The police are aware that something has happened, they're investigating and have told us to stay put until they can figure out what exactly is going on and get someone here to rescue us.”

There was an almost tangible sigh of relief from everyone. Norma did not share their sentiment. She, like Kelly was still staring at the weird light dust now billowing in through the bottom of the exit. It seemed to be forming odd wavering shapes, small but already cutting little ragged holes in the floor. She had to say something, there was no way they could stay here. “Dad?”

Henry looked over at her and instantly caught the worry on her face. Rather than shout across the room at her, he walked over. “What is it?” he asked quietly.

She didn't answer, just gestured towards the growing corrosion of the floor. Henry looked at it and hissed “shit.”