Happy Days

A chill fog dampened the sounds of the city as I arrived, cloaking the once proud Victorian street in gloom. Dilapidated and awaiting demolition, the street had one remaining house showing signs of life. My destination. 

Above the door, a flickering neon sign proclaimed “Happy Days”. In the grimy window hung a lopsided sign announcing: 'Vacancies'. 

She would still be there. Where I had left her. 

I stepped inside, closing my eyes for a moment. Remembering. Then, taking a deep breath, I sucked in the air. It was clean. A little musty, but no taint of decay and death. It had been too long for any trace to remain. I knew that. But still.

At the end of the hallway, a young woman waited. Dressed head-to-toe in the style of a fifties teenager, she watched me cooly, almost quizzically. I could've sworn she wasn't there when I'd pushed that door open. But I'd been preoccupied. I quickly straightened myself. Too much dreaming.

'Hi, you must be the new guest?' She said, head tilting in curiosity, pony tail swishing around her shoulders like the tail of an annoyed cat as she came to greet me.

'Yes, just for one night. I'm sorry, I have a slight cold, settling on my chest I think.' My words fading away as I struggled to explain my strange behaviour in the doorway to this gum-chewing girl.

She seemed to accept it. Her expression switching in an instant, beaming a smile with all the bright enthusiasm of the young.

'Better keep warm then. It's a bit cold in this dump. Henry - that's my dad - he's tight with the heat. Make sure you get him to give you an extra heater for your room. Listen, good to meet you I'm sure, but my dad hates me talking with strangers. Well any man I guess. He doesn't like me doing that,' she said, suddenly serious. Then moving closer she whispered conspiratorially. 'Please don't tell him you met me, okay?'

'Erm, no, of course not'. 

'Cool! I gotta rush. Keep cool, daddio. Things to do. See ya later, alligator!' She said, waltzing away down the corridor, vanishing in a blur of white bobby socks, flared skirt and tight sweater.

'Hello, Mr Jason is it?'

'Yes, that's me.' I said, turning to an elderly man in slippers and threadbare cardigan that had appeared beside me, shuffling into the hallway from a nearby room. I hate being the same age as old people.

'Henry Winkler, owner of the Hotel,' he told me. 'welcome, let me get your keys. You're the only guest I'm afraid, few come here now. Here you are, No.3, second floor. If you want a drink, I'll open the bar, end of the hall, there.'

'Winkler? As in the actor that played the Fonz? From the '70's TV show?'

'Yeah, that's right. Not many people get it, especially these days. Too old. I'm not the real Mr Winker of course. Or the Fonz, more's the pity. Took his name, now its stuck. Our family used to just love the series. So when we bought this place, named it after the show, thought it might be good idea for business. And it was. Until this redevelopment killed everything. But I'm not giving up. Oh no, they'll have to drag my dead body out of here first'.

'I see,' I said, taking the key. 'Your family still into it then?'

'Nah, my wife and kid left, back in the eighties. Never seen 'em since. Good riddance'.

'I'm sorry to hear that. They've never been back you say?' 

'Like I said, they left. Never heard from 'em again.' 

'Oh, well, that's... sad,' I said, managing to stop myself mentioning meeting his daughter earlier. 

'Don't worry 'bout me, I have this place, I'm staying here, ain't going nowhere. They can shove their development plans. You want your key?'

'Thank you.'

'See you in the bar then.'

There was something very wrong here. Perhaps I should call the police? But that would expose myself to scrutiny. Damn. I should never have returned. But I had to. This used to be our place, years ago, before it was turned into this themed bed and breakfast. Then, it was a place no one knew about. Or cared about. Except us.

Alone in the bedroom, it all came back. Everything was now different, yet nothing had changed; she was still here, buried under the ground floor hallway floorboards. 

I just needed one last night with her, to remember how things were. How things could have been. This house, the whole street would soon be gone. She'd be found; it was inevitable. That would be the end for me. They would make me pay. If they found me of course. I wasn't planning on ever being found. I hadn't meant it. If only she had stopped talking, telling me how she was leaving, going back to her other life. Damn, I needed a drink.

In the bar, Henry Winkler poured me a Scotch and a much larger one for himself.

'You mentioned you had a child, Mr Winkler? Was it a girl or a boy?'

Winkler's friendly demeanour changed, a sullenness grew about him. 

'Aye, one. A girl. Liked all that rock and roll nonsense she did. Like dressing up. Retro, they call it. Went too far. I didn't approve. Not one bit. Rebellious girl, like her mother.'

'Do you miss her? Them?'

Winkler glared at me,

'Listen, my wife and daughter are dead. At least to me. I told you. I don't know or care where they are or what they're doing now. I live alone. And I don't like your questions. Who are you? Are you snooping for the press? After some tasty gossip are you? Well you won't get anything from me. Bar's closed. And I want you out of this place tomorrow morning.'

Winkler stalked out of the room before I'd a chance to speak and defend myself. I tried to work out what had happened. The guy was strange, maybe a little nuts. Couldn't blame him. Especially if the local rumour mill had been cranking up against him. But who was that girl? It couldn't be his daughter, she'd be far older now.

Downing my drink, I headed back to my room. There, awake, unable to sleep, fully dressed on the bed, I stared into the darkness. Not only of the room, but of my guilt. 

Desolately, I watched as light from the hallway seeped from the gap under the door. A shadow disturbed the light. Then came a soft knock, almost inaudible, snapping me from my thoughts.

Padding to the door, I opened it quickly. The girl I'd met earlier was standing there holding a finger to her lips, whispering, 'Follow me, Mr Jason. Come on, hurry!' Then turning away, she quickly and silently ran along the corridor and down the stairway.

I followed, slowly, more than a little confused, pausing at the top of the landing. The flooring was old, at each step the boards creaked beneath me. The girl now stood at the bottom, staring up, her hand held high, telling me to stop. I froze. From behind me, came a footstep. I turned to see the blur of a club swinging towards my head. 

I heard, rather than felt, my skull crack under the blow. 

Then I was falling, bouncing hard, bones snapping at each impact with the stairs, before finally crashing through the old hallway floorboards at the bottom. Down I went, down into the place where I had buried her all those years before.

I was reunited, alongside the body of my lost love. Her skeletal arm, disturbed by the impact, draped itself across my face, its bony fingers stroking my cheek.

Unable to move, blood pouring into my right eye, pain searing up my body and into my brain. Paralysed. Not even able to scream. I was dying. 

Above me, Henry Winkler was screaming, 'Oh my God! I thought you was an intruder!'

Next to me sat the teenage girl, watching. Her head tilted in that quizzical way of hers. Behind, an older woman drifted into sight. And behind her... my old love. As beautiful as I remembered. Smiling at me. But not kindly. The girl, Winklers daughter I now understood, was watching me intently.

'I've been waiting so long to meet you Mr Jason,' she said. 'I've heard everything about you, you know. I just knew the two of you had to be together again. And I knew my dad would help'.

As she spoke, I could feel myself slipping away. The place around me growing dimmer as they grew stronger, more distinct. She saw the confusion in my eyes as the light inside me died. 

'Oh, it was my dad's stupid anger that did me in, you see. And then he did in my mom. Just like he did you, just now. All because he didn't like my boyfriends. Or the way I dressed. Or talk to him. And you. You killed your love, but out of love. You couldn't stand for her to leave, could you? But that's no excuse, is it Mr Jason? She's not happy with you. Not happy at all. Taking away her life like that. You're going to wish you'd never died, Mr Jason. All we need now is for my dad to join us.' 

As she said that, she turned, looking up to where Mr Winkler was starting to walk down the stairs.

Down towards us. 

'We've all been doing our best to loosen that top stair carpet,' she said. “I think we've done enough. Any second now, my dad should be joining us.' 

She turned back to me, smiling that smile again.

'Then we'll be together. All of us. Forever. Ain't that cool, daddio!'