Whatever Happened Next?

WHATEVER HAPPENED NEXT? DAVID B. LYONS Copyright © 2023 David B. Lyons The right of David B. Lyons to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance to the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. All newly-invented characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. ISBN: 978-1-7398552-4-6 Created with Vellum To my readers. Those wonderful, wonderful readers who embraced my second novel Whatever happened to Betsy Blake? so much that it set me on the path to becoming a full-time author—a career I genuinely had always felt was out of reach. To each of you, who bought that book, who reached out to me through social media about Betsy, who viewed the video link at the back of the book, who left a review for that book on Amazon, who emailed me to talk about Betsy and where she might be now… this follow-up novella is for you. My thank you. To You. For gifting me this career. I hope you appreciate where Betsy is now… Let’s go find out… Love and gratitude forever, David x Home: the most soothing word there is. 8:10 LENNY Lenny exhales another elongated groan, then creaks his neck subtly, his stubble bristling against the pillow. His lay is uncomfortable. But comfortable enough for him to not have to move. He’s been laying in the same position wide awake for over an hour now—awaiting his alarm’s wail. Alarm isn’t a clock for Lenny. Nor a vibrating iPhone. It’s the cry of his twin boys. Jacob and Jared. Usually in unison. Almost always at the same time. For when one Moon twin wakes, the whole Moon house awakes. Lenny has been wide awake because the day ahead was itching at his bald scalp. He reaches to scratch against the stubble of his temple, groans out another sigh, then finally swivels his shoulder — a slight swivel — slowly from his left to his right, then back again… with more force this time, until he is facing the empty side of the bed. The cold side of the bed. ‘Why does she have to come today?’ he whispers, patting at where Sally should be sleeping. ‘Of all days.’ His next exhaled groan is released with such a bellow, that he sucks in a silence, suddenly, through his teeth, shutting himself up before cringing, anticipating his alarm’s wail. ‘Mammy!’ Mammy! Mammy!’ They both cry out. In perfect unison by the second call. Lenny holds his eyes closed in frustration and scrunches up his nose, feeling a self-punch to the gut. ‘That makes a change…’ he whispers to the cold side of the bed. ‘Me waking them up.’ It’s not unusual the twins call out ‘Mammy’, over ‘Daddy’ first thing in the morning, but Lenny feels it ominous that was who they chose to wail out for today. Of all days. ‘Hold onnn!’ Lenny shouts, wiggling his bare torso out of his bedsheets, resting a knuckle of his spine against the narrow steel of the bedframe. He washes his hand over his shaved head, then kicks his two legs out of the sheets, shuffling his feet into the fur-lined slippers he had stepped out of to get into that bed some nine hours previous. He heaves himself to a standing position with a middle-aged groan, then stretches both arms towards his ceiling, his alarm’s wail growing in volume. ‘Mammy! Mammy…!’ ‘It’s Daddy,’ he yawn-shouts back, mid-stretch. ‘I’m comin’. I’m comin’.’ The cries continue as Lenny shuffles his milky, pale, body — naked save for the fur-lined slippers and a pair of overly-tight H&M-emblazoned boxer shorts — out of his dated bedroom, across the squared carpeted landing, and into the twins’ star-glowing bedroom. He strides the length of their twin beds, then stretches for the dim lamp that stands between them, pulling at its string. As soon as the room turns yellow, the cries for ‘Mammy’ fade to heavy gasps of excited, sharp inhales and exhales. ‘Mornin’ boys,’ Lenny says, kneeling between the beds. ‘You sleep well?’ He turns to Jared first. As usual. Jared slightly shows a tooth. But he’s not smiling. Rarely is. Lenny winks at him, then turns to Jacob, his head tilting so that their eyes meet square on. Sometimes Lenny can tell, just by this first glance in the mornings, whether or not Jacob will be tuned in for the day. Not today. Not yet anyway. Lenny thins his lips, wondering if Jacob remembers today is the day she is coming. Though if he had remembered, he likely would have said it by now. ‘Where’s Mammy?’ Jared asks from over Lenny’s shoulder. Lenny continues to stare at Jacob. To see if he will answer the question his brother just posed. To see if he remembers... Really remembers… But Jacob remains silent. Mute. Staring not at his father, but through him. ‘She’s coming later today. Remember?’ Lenny finally says, nodding his head. He then reaches a clawed hand to both of their stomachs and begins to squeeze. ‘Now come on, you two,’ he says, tickling them. ‘Time to get out of bed.’ He relieves them of their excitement by letting go, and then rips back their duvets, exposing their matching red and grey-striped pyjamas. Jared and Jacob have always dressed the same. Day and night. Have done every day since they were born. Sally insisted on it. Jacob gets to his feet slowly, stretching his arms to the high ceiling of his bedroom, mirroring how his father rises most mornings. Then Jared stands by slapping his feet to the thin carpet, following the exact same ritual—as