A Gift for Dying

by M. J. Arlidge

  Adam walked quickly away from the birds, even as another, more disturbing notion forced its way into his mind. Kassie. Adam had successfully banished her from his thoughts momentarily, but now he found himself replaying their conversations again. ‘I can see death before it happens.’ ‘I know how people die, when they will die …’ In spite of himself, Adam found he was reflecting on his own fate. His blood pressure had been a little high of late and, as Faith’s due date drew ever closer, he’d begun to wonder whether he should book himself in for a check-up. There was much more at stake now and given his family’s history of heart disease …

  Now Kassie presented herself in his mind’s eye, talking animatedly about the awful curse of her knowledge. And just for a second Adam allowed himself to imagine what it would mean if there actually was something in what she was saying, as Faith had suggested. If Kassie genuinely did have ‘second sight’.

  It was a thrilling but terrifying thought. Not just the notion that he had no control over his destiny, but that Kassie could foresee his end. If she could accurately predict his future, would he want to know? If she could tell him whether he was going to die at fifty of a cardiac arrest or at ninety after years of good living, would he have the courage to ask? Normally no, a hundred times no, but given that so many of members of his family had been struck down by –

  Adam stopped walking, surprised to find himself at the exit. He’d been too wrapped up in his morbid fantasies to notice where he was going, letting his mind run away with itself when he should have been thinking about how to help Kassie. Now he felt foolish to have been so absorbed in pointless speculation that he’d unwittingly brought his visit to a premature end. Still, perhaps it was telling him something – that idle distraction only leads to introspection and that work is the best antidote to anxiety. Experience should have taught him that. Casting a quick look at his watch, he pushed through the crowds and was soon away and out through the exit.

  It was nearly time for his four o’clock.

  36

  Faith stared at the clock, watching the minute hand crawl round. Why was it taking so long? She had been lying on the bed, uncomfortable and exposed, for over twenty minutes now. It seemed wrong to leave her like this, when she was anxious and unnerved.

  ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry …’

  The midwife bustled in, making her apologies without even looking at Faith.

  ‘Seems like everybody’s decided to have their baby today,’ she continued good-naturedly. ‘Now let’s see if we can set your mind at ease.’

  Sliding the ultrasound machine over to the side of the bed, the midwife slipped on a pair of gloves. Faith watched her, calmed a little by her relaxed attitude, her smooth, practised efficiency. Perhaps she was over-reacting, perhaps it had been silly to come here. The baby was often quiet – she regularly joked with Adam that their offspring had inherited her laziness.

  ‘If you could lift your gown for me …’

  The midwife slid her hand into the jelly, then smeared it on to Faith’s bump. As usual, it made Faith flinch – the silky substance cold against her taut, warm belly. Their early scans had been some of the happiest moments of her life, but Faith couldn’t say that she’d ever actually enjoyed them. It always felt undignified and exposing and she hated the feeling of the midwife’s probe digging into her flesh.

  As she listened to the crackling of the scanner, Faith toyed with the amazonite crystal she always wore for good luck. The midwife was quiet now, diligently guiding the probe around her swollen belly, while keeping her eyes fixed on the small screen in front of her. Faith could picture her baby on the monitor, a small ghostly presence swathed in a sea of black, shifting and responding to the proddings of the midwife. Faith longed to hear the familiar ‘boom, boom, boom’ of her baby’s heartbeat. To her it remained the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard.

  Silence filled the room and Faith now turned to the midwife.

  ‘How we doing?’

  It was meant to sound casual, but Faith’s anxiety betrayed her. The midwife smiled at her briefly, but did Faith detect a certain tightness in her expression?

  ‘Is everything ok? Can you find a heartbeat?’

  Concentrating hard, the midwife tried once more, then turned to Faith.

  ‘Not yet, but to be honest this particular machine isn’t the most reliable. I’ve been asking them to replace it for weeks now. I’m going to get one from next door and then we can have another go.’

  She was about to depart, when she laid a hand on Faith’s arm.

  ‘Don’t read too much into it, sweetheart. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.’

  But Faith was worried. As she watched the midwife scuttle from the room, she was gripped by a rising panic. Suddenly she was convinced that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

  37

  ‘I’m sorry if I scared you.’

  It was offered so sincerely and with such feeling that Adam found himself replying:

  ‘No harm done.’

  It was a pathetic response and entirely untruthful, as Kassie had nearly got herself killed this morning, but he couldn’t bring himself to reprimand her.

  ‘I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t thinking straight –’

  ‘It’s ok. I understand.’

  Once again, she shot a heart-breaking look of gratitude at Adam. He noticed for the first time in their brief relationship that she was happy to look him squarely in the eye. Guilt, it seemed, was helping her overcome her natural timidity and suspicion.

  ‘Would you like to stay for a while? Have a soda? Watch some TV? I’m done for the day, so …’

  ‘No, it’s ok, I can’t stay. I just wanted to apologize.’

  Adam had been seeing his four o’clock out, when he’d noticed Kassie, standing across the road, her hands in her pockets. She looked ill at ease, hopping from one foot to the other, but wasted no time in hurrying across to him, once his client had departed. He’d immediately ushered her inside, away from prying eyes.

  ‘You’ve nothing to apologize for. As I said before, it was my fault for not listening properly, for not responding appropriately.’

  Kassie shrugged, but didn’t contradict him. Once more Adam felt a surge of sympathy for this awkward, isolated teenager. What a curse it was to be different.

  ‘But I’d like to try again, if you’d agree to that. No charge, as I said before.’

  ‘You want me to be your guinea pig?’ Kassie responded, her tone hard to read.

  ‘No, just another client.’

  This seemed to please her.

  ‘Then, ok. I just want …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I just want someone to try to understand.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And to help me maybe. I know it’s difficult – that I’m not … normal – but it’s so hard. I feel like I’m always alone … but never alone. Like there’s a little bit of everybody else inside me …’

  Adam looked at her, but said nothing.

  ‘If I was a good person, a strong person …’ she continued falteringly, ‘I’d talk to all of them. Tell them that … that time wasn’t on their side and they should kiss their kids. Or that it was and that they should buy that car, that house –’

  ‘That’s not your responsibility, Kassie. Whatever you feel, whatever you think you see, that’s not your job.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘Of course not. Your only responsibility is to yourself, to making sure that you’re ok.’

  Kassie didn’t look convinced, so Adam continued:

  ‘Think about it, Kassie. Even if you could help all these people, how would you choose? There are millions of people in Chicago alone.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’

  ‘It’s true. And it’s not fair for you to take the weight of their lives upon your shoulders.’

  ‘But what if that’s my fate? What if that’s what I was born to do? Others have tried …’

  ‘Such as?’

/>   ‘Relatives,’ Kassie replied evasively. ‘People who’ve come before …’

  There must have been something – surprise? Scepticism? – in Adam’s expression, for a frown passed across Kassie’s face.

  ‘Do you believe me?’ she suddenly said, quietly.

  ‘I believe you believe it,’ Adam said carefully. ‘And I’d like to explore what that means.’

  It was an artful reply, but was true nevertheless. On balance, he believed she probably was gripped by some form of magical thinking, the belief that she could alter the world around her through her own thoughts, but for her sake he was prepared to keep an open mind, to work with her to root out the cause of her affliction.

  ‘Thank you,’ she murmured.

  Once more Adam was struck by how sad she looked. He was about to reassure her further when suddenly his cell phone started ringing on his desk. He darted a look at it – Faith. Instinctively, he moved to answer it – he monitored his phone constantly now that their due date was drawing near – then thinking better of it, he rejected the call, switching the phone to silent. He turned back to the teenager, only to find her staring directly at him.

  ‘I don’t want to be “cured”,’ she continued quickly. ‘I don’t want to be humoured.’

  ‘You have my word on that,’ Adam promised. ‘And perhaps over time we’ll understand what you’re experiencing a little better. We can take as long as you like and, who knows, maybe we can straighten things out with your mom, the cops, even your principal, so you can go to the prom, get drunk, have a good summer …’

  He had meant to raise a smile, but suddenly Kassie looked anguished. Dropping her gaze, she began to pick at her nails, refusing to look at him.

  ‘What’s up, Kassie? Did I say the wrong thing?’

  Kassie didn’t respond, shooting a quick look at the door instead.

  ‘Is it school? Did I –’

  ‘It’s not that. It’s not that at all.’

  ‘What then?’

  Even as he spoke, an awful suspicion crept over him. And as he looked at this lonely, sad child, he suddenly felt he knew exactly what she was thinking.

  ‘You don’t think you have time, do you? That’s what’s worry—’

  Kassie nodded. Adam stared at her, suddenly very concerned. Instinctively, he took a step towards her.

  ‘Kassie, have you seen your own death?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And how … how do you die?’

  It was a crazy question, but one he had to ask. If Kassie believed her own death was imminent, he needed to know.

  ‘I’m murdered.’

  Two simple words that took his breath his way. Not for the content – though that was shocking enough – but more for the conviction with which they were uttered. For a few seconds, silence gripped them both, then finally, falteringly, he found his voice once more:

  ‘And do you know … do you know who kills you?’

  An awful, elongated pause, then slowly Kassie raised her head and said:

  ‘You do.’

  Book Two

  * * *

  38

  The two women stood opposite each other, defiant, unyielding. Topping six foot, Gabrielle Grey was a powerful, imposing presence, but her adversary was not easily intimidated.

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it. Not now. Not ever.’

  ‘You don’t have a choice, Dani. Obstructing the police in the execution of their duties is a criminal offence.’

  ‘So arrest me.’

  Gabrielle was tempted to accept the offer. Having failed to unearth anyone renting or lodging in the city under the name Kyle Redmond, she had focused their fire elsewhere. It had taken her team several days to track down Kyle’s ex-girlfriend and the pay-off was proving to be disappointing – Dani Rocheford had been determinedly hostile since she first let Gabrielle in. The scrawny eighteen-year-old clearly didn’t have much time for the police – a trait she shared with the other dropouts in this crumbling South Side squat.

  ‘Look, Dani, I appreciate this is tough to talk about.’

  ‘Do you?’ the young woman spat back.

  ‘I know what you went through, what you must still be suffering and, believe me, I’m genuinely sorry for that.’

  Dani snorted, unconvinced.

  ‘But I still need to ask you these questions. It’s imperative we find Kyle as soon as we can.’

  ‘If you’d done your job properly in the first place, he wouldn’t be out there, would he?’

  ‘No, he wouldn’t, and I can only apologize for that. But I don’t want anyone else to have to suffer at his hands. I’m sure you feel the same way.’

  The young woman shrugged a begrudging agreement, refusing to meet Gabrielle’s eye. The police officer suspected part of her hostility stemmed from a misplaced sense of shame. Redmond had kept Dani hostage in the trailer they used to share for an entire weekend, torturing and degrading her. The memory of her trauma was still fresh.

  ‘So, tell me, when did you last see him?’

  ‘Three months ago, maybe a little more. He let himself in, was waiting for me when I came home.’

  ‘Did he harm you?’

  ‘A black eye.’ She shrugged, nonchalantly, as if that was a good result.

  ‘What did he want?’

  ‘No idea – he tried to talk to me, but I screamed the place down.’

  ‘Did he say where he’d been? Where he was staying?’

  ‘No. He has an aunt who lives on West Garfield, he sometimes crashes there.’

  ‘We’ve already visited her.’

  ‘Then your guess is as good as mine. He’s not a part of my life any more.’

  Gabrielle sensed relief behind her bullishness.

  ‘And when you were together, how would you describe your relationship?’

  ‘Really?’ she replied, disbelievingly.

  ‘I know it’s hard, Dani, I wouldn’t be asking these questions unless I had to. It’s important.’

  The young woman looked a little mollified by Gabrielle’s obvious sincerity. Pulling a packet of cigarettes from her pocket, she replied:

  ‘Unpredictable … controlling … violent.’

  ‘How often did he hurt you?’

  ‘Whenever he had the energy.’

  ‘What did he do?’

  ‘He messed me up. Physically … sexually …’

  ‘Did he cut you?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘With what?’

  ‘Knives, cleavers … Once with a pair of bolt cutters …’

  The last admission hurt. Gabrielle watched as Dani slid a cigarette from the packet with a shaking hand and placed it on her lips.

  ‘How long was he living with you?’

  ‘Six weeks, maybe seven.’

  ‘And during that time was he working?’

  Another shrug.

  ‘He worked for a removals firm. A cleaning company. Construction firms. But he got fired from them all, for stealing, hitting on people …’

  Gabrielle noted this down, making a mental note to call Miller.

  ‘But you won’t find him that way,’ Dani continued grimly. ‘That man changes his name more often than he changes his shorts.’

  ‘While he was here,’ Gabrielle replied, logging the warning, ‘did he mention anywhere he went as a matter of course? A bar? A pal’s house? A club?’

  Dani hesitated, her mind turning, then answered:

  ‘He had a trailer. Somewhere he used to keep stuff he was fencing. I think it was in the Lower West Side – I never knew the address.’

  Dani continued to look at Gabrielle, the cigarette hanging unlit from her mouth. Clearly she was hoping that the interview would soon be over. Gabrielle decided to take pity on her – being visited by the ghost of her tormentor had obviously left the young woman shaken and upset.

  ‘Thank you, Dani. You’ve been very helpful. I really appreciate you taking the time to speak with me.’

  Gabrielle held out he
r hand and reluctantly, embarrassed, Dani reached forward, submitting to a quick handshake, before once more dropping her hand to her side. It was the briefest of exchanges, but enough for Gabrielle to note that two of her fingers were missing. She must have been staring at the injured hand, because Dani now butted in, dismissing her.

  ‘Shut the door on your way out.’

  She turned away to light her cigarette and Gabrielle retreated. Moments later, she was on the street again, thoughts tumbling over one another as she walked back to her car. Pausing by her aged Pontiac, she chanced a look back at Dani’s apartment. To her surprise, Redmond’s ex was now at the window, wreathed in a cloud of cigarette smoke, looking directly at her. It was an image that would stay with Gabrielle for a long time.

  The image of a woman haunted by life.

  39

  Faith sat on a stool, staring at herself. She had spent nearly two months working on this self-portrait, but now she didn’t recognize it at all. The shape of her face, her expression, even her cheeky dimples were perfectly rendered, yet she felt as if she were looking at a stranger.

  This was the first time she’d been out of bed since she returned from the hospital. She hadn’t dared leave the sanctuary of the bedroom while Adam and her mother were at home, she couldn’t bear their fussing and concern. But now that her mother had gone, now that she’d finally persuaded Adam to go to the office, she had the house to herself. Tentatively, she’d emerged from her bedroom – she was still sore and walking was painful – eventually making it to her studio.

  As she’d stepped inside, she’d looked around her. All the fixtures and fittings were familiar, her trinkets, busts and souvenirs present and correct, yet she felt like an intruder, as if she were viewing the room for the first time. She wasn’t surprised or unnerved by this disorientation – since that awful day at the hospital nothing had felt right. Everything was being played out at a distance, as if she were outside herself, watching events unfold from above. Adam would probably say it was some form of denial, an attempt to distance herself from events, and maybe that was true. But if it was, it didn’t lessen the pain.