by Ryan Casey
As Grace crunched down on a few lone solid Cheerios, Ashley couldn’t help but flinch slightly.
“It’ll be okay,” Grace said, scooping the milk from the cereal bowl with her spoon. The sound of it clinking against the bowl sounded so loud in Ashley’s head. So did everything: the footsteps outside, the letterbox rattling as the post fell through it. The last few days, they’d gone so quickly. He’d had Grace back in his life for almost four days and still he felt like he knew nothing about her all over again.
“I’ve just got to be honest. Like we said. I…It’s all I can do. And all you can do. Right?”
Ashley sighed. Nodded as he stared down at the discolouring milk in his bowl of cereal. He just wanted to get this interview out of the way. Out of the way, then he could start the investigation of his own. A small part of him hoped that Grace’s strange behaviour in the first three days of her return had just been a momentary blip. She hadn’t acted weird last night in bed. He hadn’t seen or felt the scales on her back. She hadn’t tried to smother him in his sleep.
But she was here. She was still here. Alive.
That in itself was wrong.
“Morning, squadron.” A high-pitched voice came from the door over on the right. Mrs. Wisdom wandered in wearing a flowery cardigan—one of her zillion cardigans—and a little too much red lipstick on her lips. Judging by the strong smell on her, which was causing Ashley breathing difficulty, she’d overdone the perfume too. But she was smiling. She looked confident.
Or pretend-confident, at least.
“All ready for action?” she asked.
Ashley looked at his watch. Eight-twenty a.m. No wonder his head was aching and he couldn’t stop himself yawning. Time, over the last few days—it had been weird. Everything had merged together into one big congealed ball. He wondered if it would ever go back to normal. If the ball would ever crumble down into its constituent parts and give him his understanding of time back again.
“Harold’s just out in the car,” Mrs. Wisdom said, shuffling the tea and coffee pots closely against one another on the marble kitchen worktop, opening cupboards and looking inside for no reason before turning away. “Hopefully…Hopefully get off in the next five minutes. If—if you’re ready.”
Ashley looked at Grace. She rolled her eyes, smile pricking up her cheeks. He looked past Grace, feeling a little warm inside at that natural smile of hers, and nodded at her mother. “We’re ready, I think.”
“Not finishing your Cheerios?” Mrs. Wisdom asked as Ashley carried the white bowl of sloshy cereal to the sink.
Ashley imagined dipping in for another spoonful of the over-sloshy, ghastly-tasting Cheerios and his stomach cramped. “I’ll be okay. I think.”
“Good. Let’s shoot then.” Mrs. Wisdom kissed her daughter on her cheek. They whispered a few words to one another before Mrs. Wisdom patted her daughter on her shoulder and made for the door.
Ashley walked over to the kitchen table. He held out his hand for Grace.
“Ready?” he asked.
Grace smiled. Nodded. Placed her hand in his.
“Ready,” she said.
Ashley’s body tensed as he held Grace’s hand, the images of the hexagons and the seizure and the reptile mutterings spinning around his head as they made for the front door of the Wisdom household.
Get the interview done with then start your research.
Get the interview done with then find out what the hell happened—what the hell was happening—to Grace, once and for all.
TWENTY-ONE
Ashley sat in the familiar grey plastic seat at the table of the police interview room. The place had that same musty, damp smell about it, in vast contrast to the new-smelling corridors and entrance reception. Sitting in here, behind the closed blinds and the grey walls, it was like he’d been tossed into a cavern that was completely detached from the rest of the world.
Much like the sinkhole itself, it seemed.
“Miss Wisdom,” Officer Pembrokeshire said. He’d shaven his grey beard since the other day so he looked like a different man completely. With him was another officer—Officer Whitts. She had long, braided dark hair and a real intense stare. “I trust your days back have been…well, better than darkness?”
Grace nodded. She was sat beside Ashley. “They’ve been more eventful, that’s for sure.”
Mr. Wisdom gritted his teeth at this. Mrs. Wisdom just smiled. Smiled like she always did. Smiled, no matter what.
Officer Pembrokeshire cleared his throat and laid a few papers out in front of them on the school-canteen-style table. “I want you to understand, Miss Wisdom, that you aren’t under arrest here or anything like that. You’re here so we can add our stories up. ‘Cause, and excuse me for saying this, but it’s a case unlike anything we’ve seen before. Media coverage sums that up pretty nicely.”
Ashley watched as Grace nodded. The crowds of people outside with their cameras and their microphones pushing towards their faces. He hadn’t realised the true scale of the media storm until he’d arrived at this police station. Truth be told, he was still a little shaken about it.
“You are entitled to a solicitor, though,” Officer Whitts cut in, staring at Grace directly with those intense brown eyes of hers.
“Nonsense to solicitors,” Mr. Wisdom mumbled, his cheeks going red. “I’ve had enough dealings with solicitors in my lifetime to know they just overcomplicate matters.”
Officer Whitts shrugged and raised her eyebrows. “I respect that.”
“Anyway,” Officer Pembrokeshire continued, moving his finger around the desk in circles. “As we’ve established, it’s very rare that a woman just crops up from the dead. But in the few rare cases it does happen, it always, always means one thing. And I’m not saying that applies for this case, but we do have to assess the facts.”
“What facts?” Mr. Wisdom spat out again, another slip of a usually well-tied tongue.
Officer Pembrokeshire sucked at his bottom lip. “You’ve seen the news, Mr. Wisdom. All of you have. People have their financial motives. We have to rule that out.”
Surprisingly, Mr. Wisdom did not lash out at the implication that Grace’s disappearance had been some sort of financial stunt. Because as many reservations as he might have had about that idea previously, the new news of Grace’s pregnancy had seen him quieten down on his apparent softened stance towards Ashley. Because how could she be pregnant? How could that work?
“So I ask you once again, Miss Wisdom,” Officer Pembrokeshire said, leaning across the desk. “The day you fell down that sinkhole. Tell me how it happened.”
“Officer, do—do we have to—” Mrs. Wisdom started.
“Like I told you,” Grace interrupted. She stared at her hands laid down on the table. “I heard the metal scraping against the concrete. I…I felt the car moving. Felt it sliding and—and I looked over at Ashley at the bus stop. That’s all I could do. I was frozen. And then…”
She paused. Rubbed the back of her arms with the palms of her hands. Ashley waited for her to tell them that same old story: that she’d seen nothing but darkness, that she’d seen darkness and then the next thing she knew she was walking into the police station a year later.
“I…I thought I saw darkness. But…But I remember something else now. Something…something I saw.”
Ashley’s muscles tensed. He’d heard Grace admit to seeing that hexagonal pattern, but only when she was in that weird trance state of hers. Now, though, she didn’t seem to be in that state. Her eyes, they weren’t glassy. She looked like she was frowning to remember. Remembering something.
“What did you see, love?” Mrs. Wisdom asked, leaning forward on the table and clearly doing the police officers’ jobs for them.
Grace closed her eyes. Rubbed her fingers against her eyelids. “A pattern. I saw a pattern. Like…” She moved her hands away. Looked at the officers, then at her parents, then at Ashle
y.
“Like what?” Officer Whitts asked, jotting down notes in her huge notepad.
“Like lines. Hexagons. Hexagon patterns.” She looked over at her mum and dad. “Like the one I drew in the kitchen. Like the ones in that…in that old pad of mine.”
Officer Pembrokeshire frowned and scratched at his freshly shaven face. Officer Whitts turned to him. She’d stopped writing.
“Are you referring to the strange episodes you’ve had since your return?” Officer Pembrokeshire asked.
“It wasn’t just lines though,” Grace continued. She covered her eyes again with her fingers. Her voice seemed to be picking up in pace. “It—it was a planet. A huge circular planet. And then something was coming out of it. Something with wings. Something—something covered with these hexagons. These shapes. They surround us. They surround us and they are us.”
Ashley reached over to place a hand on Grace’s back. He’d noticed her cheeks were going pale. Her fingernails weren’t just rubbing her eyelids—they were scratching them now. Scratching right in. The rest of the room was still. Frozen.
It was happening again. Whatever had happened to Grace was happening again.
“Grace—” Ashley said.
Grace lowered her hands and clattered her fingernails onto the table. Her eyes were bloodshot. She stared right at Ashley, panting minty breath onto his face, lines of sweat starting to drip down her forehead. “It’s coming. It’s coming and soon you’ll all understand. I am the mother of Dione and the mother of Tethys and soon you will all—”
She fell back. Fell straight back out of her chair and started shaking on the floor.
“Oh God!” Mrs. Wisdom said. She rushed to her feet, horror on her face. Mr. Wisdom looked on, wide-eyed, as the two officers rushed around the table to Grace’s aid.
Ashley could only stare at Grace as she lay there on the floor shaking and spluttering. Her eyes were bulging. Thick, bubbly saliva was once again spewing out of her mouth as she shook and shook and shook.
“Dione and Tethys have a sister. They have a sister. You’ll understand. You’ll see. You’ll—”
The rest happened in a blur. The officers lay down either side of Grace. The door swung open at some point and Ashley heard the muffled voices of somebody—somebody dressed in a dark green outfit and stuffing a cushion underneath Grace’s head.
Ashley stood there and watched. Watched through the muffled voices. Watched as Grace blubbered and squealed and shook some more. Her eyes were dark red. She wasn’t going to make this. Something was happening to her again but this time she wasn’t going to—
And then she stopped.
Grace’s eyes closed, just like that. Ashley heard movement and voices around him more clearly now.
“Is it over?” Mrs. Wisdom sobbed, holding onto her quiet husband. “Is—is she okay? Is my Grace okay?”
“What happened?”
The voice of the police officer or the medic that Ashley had been expecting wasn’t the voice he heard. And for some reason, that sent a cold shiver all down his arms and across his hands.
He looked around. Looked back down at Grace.
She had her eyes open. They weren’t bloodshot anymore. She looked around herself, like she’d just woken up in an unfamiliar bed.
“Did I pass out again?” Grace asked, speaking fluently. She looked right at Ashley. Looked at him with those beaming blue eyes. “Did—did I faint again?”
Ashley stared back at her. The medics and the police officers looked at Grace with slack jaws.
Ashley didn’t know what to say. He was completely clueless.
Except he knew what he had to do right this moment.
He had to call an old friend. There was no other option. That’s what this had come to.
“You…You’ll be okay, Grace,” Ashley said, as the medics lifted her to her feet and escorted her—now smelling of body odour—out through the grey door and towards whatever medical facilities were in here.
Then, he lifted his phone out of his pocket, scrolled down to Susan’s name, and he dialled.
He’d been trying to avoid this. But there was no avoiding it anymore.
Even though it might cost him his relationship.
TWENTY-TWO
Ashley couldn’t help but look around and over his shoulder as he walked down Chapman Road towards Susan’s flat. He didn’t want anybody to see him. Not just with the heightened media coverage, but in general. He’d been hoping he’d never have to come back here again.
But, as always, something always brought him back.
He walked down the pavement and approached Susan’s flat. The chilly April breeze blew against his face. He’d got the bus down here. Told the Wisdoms that he was heading back to his flat to get some more stuff. Told them he’d go back and see Grace with them later when he had his stuff.
The lie made his stomach churn. The reality of what he was doing. But there was nothing sinister about this visit, right? It wasn’t like he was going round to Susan’s to fuck her behind Grace’s back.
Not like the last times.
He climbed up the grey patio steps and towards the white door of Susan’s upstairs flat and pressed the front door bell. Through the window in one of the downstairs flats, Ashley saw an old woman smoking out of the wide-open front window. She watched him closely as she puffed on her cigarette, the smoke from it blowing in Ashley’s direction in the wind and filling up his lungs. He tried not to look at her. Tried not to draw her attention to himself. Or any attention to himself for that matter.
He heard a rustling behind the door and his body tensed up. He bit his lip. Went through his head of things to say. Hi? Good to see you again? No. She’d said it was okay for him to pop round on the phone. But speaking on the phone was different to speaking in the flesh. And what he wanted to discuss with her was more weighty than a mere phone conversation, he was fast realising.
The door opened up. Susan was there to greet him. She had her brown hair tied up in a bun atop her head. She was wearing thick-rimmed glasses on her head too, as well as a black jumper and some rather out-of-place grey jogging bottoms on her slender legs.
“Ashley,” she said. She poked her head out of the door and took a look down both sides of the road. “You look…Want to come in?”
Ashley smiled shakily at Susan and climbed up through the front door of her house, doing his best not to make too much eye contact with her. He didn’t want to go in there, not really. But he had to. She could help. She knew about astronomy, the planets—she’d probably be able to give him some more detailed information about Saturn and all Grace’s strange ramblings than he could gather on the many Internet forums.
He looked down the road. Watched a car drive past. He could’ve sworn the driver’s eyes were on him. What if they knew Grace? What if they went to Grace and told her he was here with Susan?
No. Don’t be ridiculous. Don’t be irrational.
“Still as twitchy as ever, I see,” Susan said.
Ashley felt his cheeks warming up as he moved away from the door and closed it.
He turned around. Half-glanced at Susan, as she stood at the bottom of the stairs leading up to her flat.
“I don’t bite,” she said, bemused grin on her face. “Not unless…” She shook her head. Cleared her throat. “Sorry. You…The news. Grace. She’s back, then?”
Ashley nodded as Susan started to lead the way up the spongy brown-carpeted staircase.
“How does that work, anyway? Just…from a logistical point of view. Playing devil’s advocate and all that. How does she just…come back?”
Ashley shrugged as Susan opened the doorway to her lounge. He got a whiff of vanilla as she opened it. A scent he’d smelled so many times when he’d sneaked back here for a night with Susan. Nights that he was supposedly working. Afternoons that he’d spent “on shift.” The only major hiccup in Grace’s and his late r
elationship. Thank God it had ended between them and he’d been ratted out before Grace had died…or gone missing, rather. Thank God, or he’d have never lived with the guilt otherwise.
He was struggling enough as it was.
“Come on, Ashley,” Susan said. She walked over to the brown sofa and brushed aside a few paperback books—books on Gods, on the stars and the skies, witchcraft. The sorts of things she was always interested in. The sorts of things she always wanted to merge with her astronomy studies one way or another, as rational or irrational as it was.
Ashley stared at her as she sat there on the sofa, holding out an arm to the seat beside her. He remembered fucking her on there once. No, twice. Or was it three times? Fuck. Did it matter? He shouldn’t be here. He couldn’t be here. Although he wasn’t here with any ill intent, that’s hardly how Grace would see it.
“Okay, you’re worrying me a bit just standing there now. With…with all the things they’re saying on the news. And those bags under your eyes, I could burst them with a pen. Are you…What is it you want? Because—because if it’s going back to the way things were, then I’m sorry but we had our time. And right now, with Grace being…being alive, apparently. And all this about you maybe faking it all that the media are saying? It’s not right you being here for that reason. It’s not—”
“I’m not here for us,” Ashley said. “I’m not here for—for the past. For anything like that. Because as far as I’m concerned, that’s the past.”
Susan shrugged. Lowered her glasses. “Then sit down next to me and tell me what the hell it is you’re doing here in my lounge.”
Ashley looked over at the window. All he could see was the roof of a modern-looking house across the road. There was no way anybody could see in, was there? What if somebody had seen him walking down or saw him walking back for the bus? He’d have to get a lift with Susan. No. Fuck. That’d be even worse. Madness.
