by T B Gayle
‘It’s fine,’ said Maisie. ‘I’m not that interesting. Just ask Sam. I’d rather hear more about you and this stalker of yours.’
‘If you’re not interesting then I’d hate to think what you think about me,’ said Pascal. Then his expression changed. ‘What do you mean, stalker?’ he said.
XI
Isobel quietly followed behind Pascal, keeping to the shadows, waiting for the troubles that she knew were coming. He was walking fast, so fast she almost lost him as he ducked away into a restaurant.
It was another thing that didn’t make sense. The day was starting to be full of them. She knew he got takeaway from a shop on High Street every Tuesday, but he never went to restaurants. It doesn’t matter, Isobel, she told herself. The game was over. They weren’t trying to make things make sense anymore. They were doing this for her. This was all for her.
Isobel watched as Pascal sat down at a table near the back of the restaurant. A woman was waiting for him, and it wasn’t just any woman, it was Maisie. And worse, standing behind them, dressed as a waitress, was the woman, the very woman Isobel had been trying to get as far from as she could.
Isobel tried to think. She knew the waitress would know she was here. She knew she had to be careful; she’d seen what had happened to Maisie. She knew what the waitress was capable of, but for some reason, Isobel ignored all her own advice and instead marched into the restaurant as though none of it had mattered.
‘What are you doing here with him?’ she said to Maisie, who turned to the waitress like this was the moment in their plan where everyone in the restaurant was meant to stand and draw swords from beneath their tables.
‘What are you doing here with him?’ repeated Isobel. She hadn’t known why she’d said it the first time and to say it again just seemed beyond ridiculous. The worst part was, she knew exactly what Maisie was doing here with him. They wanted her to feel something. They wanted her to be jealous. They wanted her to realise what she’d be giving up if she made it out. But it wasn’t going to work. She knew he wasn’t real.
Isobel tried to clear her thoughts and focus on the waitress. She was the one with the answers that Isobel needed. They were staring at each other like those men in hats in movies with guns at their sides. Isobel knew this was meant to be the end for her; this was when she was meant to forget and join the long line of the lost who believed this was all there was. But they’d made a mistake. They’d thought the tricks of their world would have drained her so much that she’d be nothing to worry about, but they hadn’t realised who she was, how strong she’d been. And all the tricks of their world weren’t enough to take that from her.
‘You should never have brought me here,’ said Isobel.
‘Is she okay?’ said the waitress.
‘You should have left me in the darkness,’ said Isobel. She could see the fear growing in the waitress’s eyes. She could see others turning and looking at her, wondering too late if they’d chosen the right side. It was too late, Isobel wanted to shout at them. She was going to tear down their world. Let them face the shadows without their stolen light, thought Isobel. And she knew what would become of them, but far better people than they would ever be had fallen in the darkness.
A burly man was beside the waitress now. He was wearing an apron around his waist and looked like he’d enjoyed the temptations of the world all too much.
‘Listen, miss, you’re making a bit of a scene,’ said the man.
‘Are you scared?’ said Isobel. She raised her hands. ‘Because you should be,’ she told the room. ‘You’d all be scared if you knew what was out there.’
‘Right, that’s enough of that,’ said the man. He bent down, put his arms around her waist, and lifted Isobel from the ground.
She tried to throw him; she tried to kick out of his grasp; she tried to summon the light from inside her and blast him back into the darkness to face the nightmares that he’d helped build this world to hide from, but nothing came. There was just this emptiness that took hold of her.
The man carried her through the restaurant and dumped her outside on the footpath. Isobel couldn’t look up. She couldn’t look at the grinning faces of the man, the waitress and all the people at the tables. She’d thought she’d still been strong enough to beat them.
‘It’s you lot that’s ruining this place,’ said the man.
XII
‘That was full on,’ said the waitress. She put her hand on Pascal’s shoulder and sort of rubbed it back and forth like that was somehow going to make up for the shock of seeing his old childhood friend follow him into a restaurant and start shouting at everyone like she was crazy.
‘I don’t think she was that cool with you two going out,’ said the waitress.
‘We’re not going out,’ said Maisie, which seemed a bit confusing to Pascal, seeing as they were out at a restaurant together and she’d pretty much thrown herself at him when he’d got home the other night. If that wasn’t going out, then Pascal wasn’t sure what was. If anyone had bothered to ask him what he was up to that night, he would have told them he was going out with this amazing chick. It was all pretty clear as far as he was concerned.
‘I think it’s great that you’ve found someone, Maze,’ said the waitress. She smiled at Pascal, her hand still rubbing along his back. ‘She’s quite tolerable sometimes, isn’t she? Well, once she gets over thinking she’s sick all the time.’
‘Yeah, for sure,’ said Pascal. He’d never really thought of a girl being tolerable or not before, but he guessed it was kind of an important thing. It was no use him going out with some beauty or whatever if he couldn’t stand being around her. Well, he wasn’t quite sure that was true. If someone like the waitress ever cracked onto him, he knew it was going to be pretty hard to say no, no matter how awful she was, especially if she kept rubbing his back the way she was.
‘We’re not going out, alright,’ said Maisie. ‘I didn’t want to be here.’
Pascal stood there blinking.
‘Oh, don’t look at me like that,’ said Maisie. ‘I know you and that girl have been up to something. She was at your flat. For all I know, you asked her to freak me out like she did. You probably planned the whole thing so I’d come running into your arms.’
Pascal tried not to show how awful he was suddenly feeling. ‘I haven’t seen her in years,’ he said. ‘She wasn’t always like this, you know.’
The waitress switched to putting her arm all the way around him and resting her head against him, which was nice, but her feeling sorry for him didn’t exactly make up for everything Maisie had just been saying.
‘I should probably go look for her,’ said Pascal.
XIII
Isobel lay on the footpath with a crowd of people moving around her, all glancing down to see if she was alright before realising who she was and pretending they hadn’t glanced down to see if she was alright at all. There were so many people. She could feel their thoughts clawing at her, trying to pull her into line. ‘March with us, Isobel,’ they whispered. Isobel had no idea where they wanted her to march to. All day they’d be hurrying left and right, and Isobel could never work out why. They’d hop into cars and drive away, and other cars would zoom by like all the shadows in the darkness were chasing them, but the shadows never were. Isobel only ever saw other cars behind them.
Stop listening to them, Isobel, she told herself. She knew what was about to happen if she didn’t. It was the same thing that always happened when she let herself be caught in their tricks: her mind would go quiet, her eyes would stop hurting, and she would begin to wonder how she’d ever believed all the thoughts she’d been thinking.
She wasn’t going to let it happen this time, though. She couldn’t. She ran for the park, knowing she needed to be somewhere dark, somewhere quiet, somewhere far from the city lights and the buildings, and all the illusions that were doing this to her. She had to hold onto who she knew she was. She couldn’t let the world wash over her, let it make her think
this was all there was.
The trees were so close. She could almost reach out and touch them, but then all the thoughts and the staring eyes and the whispers grew too much for her. She collapsed to the ground, her fingers and arms outstretched as far as she could reach. But the trees couldn’t save her this time. There was no spiriting away the thoughts of doom in her head so they didn’t have a chance to catch and come true. Not this time.
Isobel’s head stopped aching and her thoughts went quiet. She knew, surer than the sun rising each morning, that she could never have leapt into the air and fought with anyone, and she knew that the only shadows she had to worry about were the ones cast by the trees beneath the lights of the park.
What’s wrong with you, Isobel, she thought. She knew she needed help, she knew all her thoughts were so messed up. But then she noticed something move. The shadow before her was growing longer, like something giant climbing to its feet.
Stop it, Isobel, she told herself. She wasn’t going to let her do this to herself anymore. The park was her home. There was nothing that could scare her here. There were tall trees and grass, a pond, and a little cottage that she always wondered if she could stay in when it was cold. That was all.
Isobel held her breath as she watched the shadow reach out for her.
‘We were never getting out, Isobel,’ said the shadow.
She pulled her knees to her chest and refused to look up. The shadow gripped her arm like it was going to squeeze right through it, like it was never going to let go. Then two bright eyes were beside her in the darkness, pulling her to safety. It was Pascal, the real Pascal, her Pascal. He took her in his arms.
Isobel held him tight against her. It was like the cold that had crept deep inside her was being drawn away. It was like everything was going to be alright. Then suddenly Pascal gasped. The light was gone from his eyes. He was staring at her, staring up at her as she grew taller and taller, her hands becoming long dark claws reaching down towards him.
XIV
Pascal knew he should have headed back and tried to sort things out with Maisie. He knew that whatever must have happened between her and Isobel at the flats had probably messed with her a fair bit, and she hadn’t meant all the things she’d said. It sure had sounded like she had, though.
He couldn’t help shuffling along with his head down, feeling pretty flat about it all. It wasn’t just because of how bad the date had gone; it had kind of got to him how they’d all treated Isobel. Sure, she’d said some weird things, but they hadn’t had to throw her out on the street the way they had, like she wasn’t worth knowing anymore or anything.
Why didn’t you try to help her, then? he asked himself. He’d just sat there the whole time, like seeing her acting all distressed and everything hadn’t mattered much to him at all. He was pretty sure she probably thought he was the worst guy going around after that, and she wouldn’t have been alone there.
That was the thing, he wasn’t sure he was really up for helping her. He wasn’t feeling that great himself after everything, and besides, it wasn’t like he had to make up for anything. He would have spent every minute of every day with her when they were kids, well, if there’d been cartoons on the telly to watch and all that. That’s what Maisie and the others didn’t realise; it wasn’t like Isobel was just someone he’d hung out with after school. He’d been the one that had found her alone in her house when her mum had got up and left.
Pascal kept trudging towards the train station, knowing there was no chance of him ever heading back to talk to Maisie. What was he meant to tell her, that he was okay with them just being friends? He didn’t want to just be friends with her. If he’d wanted a friend, he would’ve been scouring the streets looking for Isobel.
He knew that’s what he was meant to be doing, but whenever his mind flicked back to the scene she’d caused at the restaurant, he couldn’t help thinking about the waitress and how caring and all that she’d been with him. He knew he shouldn’t have been thinking about her the way he was thinking about her, but it was the only way he knew to stop his mind going to some pretty dark places. The waitress had had these stunning eyes and this incredible body. Her curves had been more the nicely shaped kind rather than huge, but when he thought about them, he couldn’t help thinking that if she’d been the one slightly off her rocker, needing a place to stay, he would have been the first one throwing his keys towards her.
Pascal took a deep breath. He had a whole train trip to get through, and there were some thoughts better saved for when he was home without a carriage full of people glancing down and shaking their heads. And he knew it was wrong, that he’d feel guilty afterwards, but he needed some cheering up, and it was all he had. He knew he would’ve had about as much luck with the waitress as he’d had with Maisie, but that kind of made it even more exciting that he could imagine her so clearly in his head doing all the things to him she’d never really do. And she was stunning. She made Maisie look like some scruffy mess that had been sleeping on the streets.
XV
A young couple walking by turned to stare at Isobel as she sat huddled on the park bench. She knew they could see what was happening to her, that there was a darkness brewing deep inside her that only the flickering light above was keeping them safe from. It was draining her, but she couldn’t face the dark, not again, not so soon. They’d done something to her. They hadn’t just dragged her into this world of theirs; they’d cut deep into her heart and buried something so terrible that Isobel gasped just thinking about it.
Was this how they made sure no-one ever left? she wondered. Isobel tried to shield her eyes, but as she did, she could feel the shadow inside her reaching out. She shifted quickly, sitting high up on the seat, letting the light wash over her. Isobel couldn’t help thinking of all the mornings she’d spent watching the sun rise with her mum, reaching their arms up to the sky, letting the light fill them with warmth. Isobel had to gasp again, realising what that had to mean; they’d put the same dark horror inside her mum. That’s why she’d always seemed so broken, like she’d wanted to be somewhere else, thought Isobel. She’d been wanting to find a way out too. Her mum had been trapped here just the same as she was. Only, instead of them using an illusion like Pascal to trick her into staying, they’d been using Isobel.
You should never have been mad at her, Isobel told herself. But it had been so hard. It was her grandpa that had looked after her mostly, until he’d got sick. But it wasn’t her mum’s fault. Isobel’s grandpa had said she’d come at the worst time for her mum. And it was the same with Pascal. They always made him turn up just when Isobel was getting so close to finding a way out.
It was heartbreaking to think back to all the mornings she’d sat there complaining, wanting to be back in bed. ‘It’s important, Isobel,’ her mum had always told her. ‘It will keep you safe and well.’
Isobel should have thanked her. She should have told her how much it had all meant to her. On their last night together, her mum had knelt by her bed and looked at her for what had seemed so long. ‘Tomorrow you can sleep in,’ she’d said. ‘And you can do anything you want, Isobel.’
‘Really,’ said Isobel. ‘Can we have ice cream?’
She had to wonder if maybe it was her birthday, but they’d never really celebrated birthdays. When it had been Pascal’s birthday, Isobel had told her mum he’d got a bike, and her mum had said, ‘I suppose you want a bike now too?’ Isobel had shaken her head, but deep down she’d really wanted one.
‘That’s not what leads to happiness, Isobel,’ her mum had said.
‘I know,’ said Isobel. ‘But then I’d be able to ride with Pascal. He says there’s a river we can go swimming in down by the racecourse. And he says there’s platypuses there. I think I’d be happy if I saw a platypus.’
It had been strange hearing her mum talking about happiness. Her mum had always seemed like the least happy person Isobel had known. It would have been different if it had been Pascal’s mum talking about
it; she was always laughing and making jokes. Isobel could still remember how strange it had felt the first time Pascal’s mum had hugged her. The closest Isobel’s mum had ever come to that was on their last night when she’d put her hand on Isobel’s. ‘You’ll be able to have everything you’ve always wanted,’ she said. ‘But you have to promise me something.’
Isobel nodded.
‘You can’t be sad,’ she said.
Isobel had thought it such a strange thing to say. Of course she wasn’t going to be sad if she was going to get everything she’d wanted. Who would ever be sad after that?
‘Are you sad now?’ said her mum. Isobel shook her head. ‘Then whatever happens tomorrow shouldn’t change that,’ said her mum. ‘You’ll be the same. You understand? You might feel different but if you’re the same then whatever you’re feeling isn’t real. It’s an illusion. You understand?’
She squeezed Isobel’s hand. ‘It’ll be for the best,’ she said. ‘You’ll see, Isobel.’
Isobel sat beneath the light and yelled at herself for starting to feel sad when that was the very thing her mum had said she shouldn’t do. But it was so hard; the light was draining her, taking her breath away.
I’m sorry, she wanted to tell her mum. Isobel knew she’d let her down. She knew her mum wouldn’t have wanted her to be like this. She’d wanted her to be happy, to have everything that she’d ever wanted. Isobel kept having this feeling that her mum had known Isobel wasn’t ever going to be strong enough to make it out. Her mum must have known there was only one way to stop what they’d put inside of Isobel: she had to give them what they wanted. The thought of that was just shattering. It meant she’d have to be with the Pascal that wasn’t Pascal and live a life that wasn’t really a life. She’d have to be like everyone else. That made Isobel wonder if maybe everyone knew, if maybe they were all just keeping quiet about it so the darkness wouldn’t be let loose to rage inside them again.
