The Unexpected Gift of Joseph Bridgeman (The Downstream Diaries Book 1)

by Nick Jones

  ‘I can explain everything,’ I assure her, ‘but first we need to get you dry, you’ll catch your death.’

  She sniffs, wipes her face with the back of her hand and nods. ‘Okay,’ she agrees, reluctantly, ‘but don’t try anything…’ She pauses. ‘Anything weird.’

  I make a quick decision. ‘Let’s go into my study,’ I suggest, ‘there’s a fire in there.’ I lead the way, not waiting for an answer. Alexia Finch has every right to be suspicious after what I’ve put her through.

  We enter my study, my haven and the only room in the house that is remotely tidy. It’s cold but small, which means it will heat up quickly. I flick on a couple of side-lights and offer Alexia a seat. She manages a weak smile but remains standing, eyes darting around the room nervously. My study is packed full of my life. It probably appears quite random to her, but all of the objects and things in here are important to me. There are paintings of various kinds, some contemporary, some old, shelves crammed with books and some of my favourite smaller antiques and memorabilia. And of course there is my extensive vinyl collection, amplifier and deck. A large blue Persian rug covers the majority of the bare wooden floor. I head to the corner and fill the empty log-burner with crunched up newspaper and within minutes I’m piling kindling onto a healthy yellow flame. I throw on some coal and two small, seasoned logs and close the door. Through the glass the hungry flame draws to a deep orange glow, wood crackling loudly as heat pours out, prickling my face and ears. Alexia has tucked her hands up inside her armpits. She’s still shivering and her teeth are rattling.

  ‘Let me get you a towel,’ I say.

  She nods and inches closer to the fire. I fetch my softest towel, a large jumper and offer her tea. She agrees and I leave her for a few minutes. When I return with two steaming mugs she’s changed into my jumper – a huge thing that drowns her – and I notice some colour has returned to her pale cheeks. I hand her the tea, which she takes but then stares, suspiciously, at it in her hand.

  ‘I haven’t drugged it,’ I say, a little too quickly.

  She places her tea on the table and looks at me. ‘I was questioned by the police too you know, it was awful.’ She swallows hard and sighs, hands restlessly working on her lap, applying invisible hand-cream.

  ‘I know,’ I assure her. ‘What did you tell them?’

  ‘As little as possible,’ she shakes her head. ‘They think I’m involved, they think this might be connected to the other girls that have gone missing. It’s a mess,’ she draws in a slow breath. ‘This is the last thing I need, I have a reputation, a career.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, my voice sounding flat and pathetic. ‘I didn’t know any of this was going to happen.’ I watch her shudder and begin rubbing her temples. ‘Do you feel okay?’ I ask, suspecting I know the answer.

  ‘No.’ She swallows, nervously. ‘I don’t feel right.’

  I nod. Brain freeze. I open the burner door and throw another log into its hungry belly. When I turn back, Alexia looks close to tears. ‘I feel like I’ve caught the flu,’ she says, trembling, ‘and I’m boiling, like a fever.’ She rubs the back of her neck, frowning.

  Interesting. Feverish, not icy. I suspect she’s feeling the pull of time but differently to me. ‘Listen,’ I say, ‘you’re going to be fine, all of this –’

  ‘Fine?’ She snaps suddenly. ‘This isn’t fine! You came to my house, you were trying to warn me about something, what have you done to me?’

  ‘You were in danger,’ I reply, ‘but it’s going to be okay now.’

  She purses her lips until they turn almost white and when she speaks her voice is determined and focussed. ‘Tell me the truth.’

  ‘Okay,’ I begin, resigned to the fact that I can’t dance around this forever. ‘Your fever is happening because time is trying to re-locate you, it wants you back where you should be and that causes…’ I search for the right word, guessing that what’s happening to her is similar to brain freeze but perhaps in reverse. ‘It causes friction.’ I nod. Yes, that’s it.

  ‘You said I was in danger?’

  ‘You were,’ I assure her again. ‘Because you were about to slip through time with no idea what was happening. If you don’t plan where you’re going to land, that can be dangerous,’

  ‘Slip through time?’ She murmurs, brow furrowed.

  ‘Yes,’ I reply, ‘I dragged you forward and that means that soon, you are going to travel back again.’ I kneel close to her. ‘There are rules and as long as we stick to them, you will be okay. All we need to do now is make sure you are in the right place when you go back.’ She’s staring at me in disbelief but I see something connect, somewhere deep in her eyes, way back in her mind. ‘Trust me,’ I say, surprised by the clarity and calmness in my voice, ‘I know what I’m doing.’

  She manages a delicate smile, which I return, but inside I shudder.

  8.

  Alexia’s hands work busily on her lap and she finally takes a sip of tea, which I see as a small but significant victory. She closes her eyes and whispers, ‘Okay.’ Her shoulders physically drop an inch. ‘Let’s say I believe you, what’s going to happen to me?’

  I wait and choose my words carefully, condensing what I’ve already told her into digestible facts. ‘You’re going to travel through time to where you are supposed to be.’

  She stares at me, blinking. ‘Back to the night of the party?’

  ‘No,’ I say instinctively. ‘When you travel, the time you spend in your new location is added back on. I now know you will stay here for four days, which means you will go back to the 23rd of December, four days after you left.’

  ‘But how do you know I will stay here for four days?’ She frowns. ‘I don’t get it.’

  I shrug, ‘I don’t know why, but objects and clothing travel back quicker, exactly half way through your trip in fact.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ She snorts.

  ‘Yes, that’s how I ended up naked in your office,’ I reply, strangely relieved to finally be talking about it. ‘It’s like an elastic band, the further you go, the faster you snap back. That particular time, in your office, was a very short trip, hence the sudden lack of clothes.’

  She screws up her face, ‘But how do you know all of this?’

  ‘It’s complicated,’ I shrug. ‘I had help from an old friend, someone a lot smarter than me, but listen, the most important piece of information we have is that we know when it’s going to happen to you, we can make sure you’re safe.’

  Alexia stands and paces slowly, eyes wandering, deep in thought. She takes a sharp sip of tea and asks, ‘But if you can do this then why don’t you just go back and change everything, stop me from travelling with you in the first place?’

  ‘I did consider it,’ I admit with an awkward smile, ‘but I didn’t want to risk it until I knew you were safe. I mean, what if I got it wrong, made it worse, didn’t change it enough. I didn’t want to leave you like that.’ I stare at the floor. ‘I couldn’t.’

  We fall into a long silence, broken only by the occasional pop of wood, exhaling its last breath in the burner. I wait, knowing – almost hearing – her mind chewing the new and impossible news I’ve just given her. We’re interrupted by a loud buzzing sound and Alexia jumps as though we’ve been telling ghost stories around a campfire. She drops her mug and shrieks as it smashes to the floor. ‘Gosh, I’m sorry,’ she mumbles, grabbing the towel and mopping up the mess.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ I say, taking the towel from her. The buzzing was her phone. ‘Do you need to get that?’ I ask.

  She reaches inside her jeans and pulls out her phone. Her shoulders drop and she nods, looking up at me, eyes raised. ‘It’s my Father.’

  ‘Then you better answer it,’ I say seriously, grimacing for comedy effect.

  She manages a smile, answers cheerfully and then immediately waits while he talks loudly. She flicks her eyebrows, pacing the study. I clear up the tea as she assures her Father that she’s fine and, after heat
ed discussion, reluctantly agrees to come home.

  She hangs up. ‘Thirty-one and I’m being babysat by my parents!’ She hisses. ‘Called home for dinner.’ She shakes her head and sighs heavily in frustration, her tone cooler, ‘In a way, it’s fair enough I suppose, I did go missing and scare them half to death but I feel like a child.’ She swallows, concern etched in her face. ‘I need to go,’ she says, staring at me, ‘but I’m scared, what if I travel back tonight?’

  ‘You won’t,’ I say, willing my predictions to be true. ‘Your clothes went this morning, which means you will travel on the 29th.’ I shrug, offering a tentative smile, ‘It’s the rules.’

  She rolls her shoulders and shivers, ‘And what about this fever, will it get worse?’

  ‘Yes,’ I nod, ‘but then it goes, all at once.’

  She sighs, still shaking her head, ‘This is just crazy.’

  ‘It is,’ I admit, ‘but you get used to it.’

  ‘That doesn’t help.’ She frowns, but then her expression softens a touch. ‘I’m going to try to persuade my parents to go home tomorrow, which means I might not get here until late afternoon.’ She swallows. ‘Will that be okay?’

  ‘Absolutely fine,’ I say without thinking, ‘we can talk more and prepare.’

  She manages a smile, not yet back to the Alexia I met a while ago, but it’s a step in the right direction. ‘I feel like I’m the one making an appointment with you.’ She sighs.

  ‘Well, I will need to check my diary,’ I joke, easily and without thought, miming taking a booklet from my jacket and tossing it over my shoulder. ‘Yes,’ I announce with a smile, ‘I think I can fit you in.’

  She leaves and I close the door, returned to the silence of my nagging thoughts.

  It’s the rules, I told her. The rules. I take a long breath. I’ve travelled a few times now and been dragged back each time. There’s a consistency to it, a certainty that time-travel somehow adheres to a recognisable form of logic, of parameters with boundaries. I just hope those rules apply to everyone and not just me.

  9.

  Late afternoon, the following day, we’re in my spare bedroom. A single light bulb illuminates bare wooden floors and walls that are dotted with dark shapes, the places where pictures once hung. It’s an empty room, has been for some time. In other words, an ideal safe spot for a bit of time-relocation.

  Alexia is dressed casually; pink blouse, blue jumper, smart denim jeans and black shoes. Her hair is pulled tightly into a neat pony tail. Unlike yesterday, she’s dry and composed and, apart from the dark shadows below her eyes, seems to be coping well. She folds her arms, ‘You’re absolutely sure?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I reply confidently. ‘I cleared it out months ago and it’s been empty ever since.’

  ‘And that door,’ she flicks a thumb behind her, ‘it’s been locked the whole time?’

  I nod. ‘The whole time.’

  ‘Okay.’ She nods.

  She glances around the room nervously and then walks to the window, looking out onto the dark street below. ‘What time is it now?’ She asks.

  ‘Five thirty,’ I reply, noting how her skin seems to glow in the reflected light of the streetlamp, her cheeks are flushed red, her lips too. She looks healthy, radiant, but I know some of that is due to the fever, her version of my brain freeze. ‘How are you feeling?’ I check.

  ‘Similar to yesterday,’ she answers with a shrug. ‘The tablets helped, my temperature is under control at least. I didn’t sleep too well, but my parents are gone and I’m still here. They followed me again.’ She tips her head, ‘Do you see them?’

  I join her at the window, taking in her perfume which is delicate and smells a little like soap. I see the Black Ford SUV. Just what we need. ‘Christ,’ I say, ‘they’re keen.’

  ‘Don’t worry about them,’ she whispers but then changes the subject quickly. ‘What’s it like Joe?’ She asks. ‘To go back I mean, what does it feel like?’

  Oh, you know, pain, fear, panic.

  ‘It’s not too bad,’ I lie. ‘Colours change, you can feel it coming and then… pow, you’re through, just like that.’ I smile. ‘Of course, the first time it happened to me, I had no idea what was going on.’

  She turns and stares. ‘I hadn’t thought about that?’ she replies, thoughtfully, ‘that you had to do this alone.’ She takes a breath. ‘At least I have you to explain what the hell is going on.’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s better.’ I shrug.

  She ignores me, ‘Does it feel anything like it did when we arrived here, in the street?’

  ‘Similar,’ I pause, ‘just more…’

  ‘More painful,’ she finishes for me. ‘You’re a terrible liar, Joseph Bridgeman.’

  I flush red, ‘Another one of my gifts.’

  ‘I’d rather know,’ she says, ‘so I can prepare myself.’ She offers a smile, brave yet somehow sorrowful, like a woman about to go into labour.

  ’Okay, it does hurt,’ I admit, ‘but it’s over quickly.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She sets her jaw and looks out of the window again, deep in thought.

  We stand like this for a short while, nothing needing to be said, but then I finally pluck up the courage. ‘Alexia,’ I say quietly, ‘I wanted to ask you something.’

  She turns to me. ‘Okay,’ she replies, eyes searching mine.

  ‘Now that you know what’s really going on, why I’ve been acting so strangely.’ I pause, unsure of the next part of this speech and instantly feel my thoughts muddle around in my brain, pushing and shoving their way into the departure lounge of my stupid mouth. ‘Well, I guess what I’m trying to say is that…’

  ‘You want my help,’ she offers, putting me out of my misery.

  I stop and stare, mouth open a little, ‘Well…’ I mumble, awkwardly. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Listen Joe, you need to understand that before yesterday the world made sense to me. You were a patient, I thought you were very unstable, that you needed help, professional help.’ She pauses, blinking and then continues, ‘Yesterday, everything changed. It’s going to take me a while to get my head around that. It’s not every day that you meet a time-traveller, let alone travel along for the ride.’ She snorts. ‘I mean, do you know what would happen if this was some kind of joke, what it would do to my career?’

  ‘It’s not a joke,’ I assure her. ‘Not at all.’

  She sighs, ‘I know, but I’m a very logical person, Joseph.’ She shrugs. ‘The impossible is going to take some time to sink in.’

  I’ve been through it and as I watch her I get a sense of what Vinny and then Mark have been through. Disbelief, fear, suspicion, denial, the whirring cogs of reality being disassembled and re-connected. Now, it’s Alexia’s turn and, out of all of us, she’s definitely in the lead.

  ‘I know about your viewings, about Amy going missing.’ She frowns. ‘I know you’ve spent time alone and shut yourself off. That’s why Martin sent you to me in the first place.’

  ‘Then you know that you unlocked this ability in me.’

  ‘Now, wait a minute,’ she hits back, ‘I don’t know if that’s strictly true.’

  ‘It is Alexia,’ I assure her, ‘you know about Amy, about why I want to go back.’

  She inhales, holding my gaze. ‘Joe?’ She says carefully, ‘Have you stopped to ask whether that’s right?’

  I stare at her in disbelief. ‘Right?’ I almost shout. ‘Whether it’s right? You don’t know how important Amy was, what she meant.’ I shake my head. ‘All I know is that what happened to her was wrong, and that you have given me hope, you can’t just leave now, how am I supposed to save her?’

  ‘Joe!’ Alexia shoots back. ‘I’m sorry, I really am, but this isn’t my problem.’ She hangs her head and sighs. ‘Don’t you see that? This is absolute madness.’ She laughs, hollow and empty. ‘Christ, I hardly know you and you’re asking me to help you travel back through time and save someone who is probably, more than likely –’ She stops and win
ces. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers, blinking, ‘I didn’t mean that.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘You’re right. I get it. I’m so focussed on myself, on what I want that I haven’t really stopped to consider how you might be feeling.’ I nod and take a step towards her. ‘But this isn’t about me and what I want.’ I lift my head and wait for my heart to regulate. ‘This is about putting something right.’ Alexia opens her mouth to speak but I don’t let her. ‘Amy was seven when she was taken, I was fourteen. A light went out in the world that day. She was an amazing, kind, important girl. It should never have happened. It tore my family apart, ruined our lives.’ Alexia tries again but I continue, determined. ‘I thought I was cursed, but now I believe I’ve been given this ability for a reason. You’ve given me a chance, but I can’t do this on my own, you have to help me.’ I frown, realising the pressure I am applying but no longer caring what she thinks of me. ‘Please,’ I beg. ‘Please help.’

  She takes an age to reply. I study her, the way her eyes shimmer when she’s thinking and notice how she plays with her ear but doesn’t seem to realise it. ‘I want to help Joe,’ she sighs eventually, ‘and I can’t deny it, aside from everything else, this whole thing is intriguing. I’ve spent my life helping people, countless hours delving into their past, sifting and sorting through their problems.’ She shakes her head, no doubt reassessing the world. ‘What you can do, it changes everything.’

  ‘Yes,’ I say, with absolute conviction. ‘With your help it just might.’

  She maintains a fixed expression, hard to read. She shudders, rubbing the back of her neck. ‘I’m sorry Joe,’ she says, ‘I don’t know if I can help you, I need time to think, but right now, you need to help me. We need to get this done, get me home safely and then we will talk.’ She pauses and holds my gaze. ‘Okay?’