Numbers

by Rachel Ward

  “I’ve brought some juice,” said Anne. “Shall I put on the kettle as well? You and Karen can have a cup of tea. Simon, would you like one?”

  There was a shakiness in her voice that I couldn’t put my finger on. She was trying to sound normal, say normal things, but the tremor in her voice made her sound afraid. What was she afraid of?

  I felt embarrassed, these people seeing me in bed, at a disadvantage. I swung my legs out onto the floor and heaved myself to my feet. Just for a moment, it went red and then black behind my eyes, and I clutched the edge of the table to stop myself from falling.

  “Stood up a bit quickly?” Anne had her arm half around me, supporting me, although she held me away from her body. I got the feeling that if she could have used tongs, she would have. “Sit down here, that’s it. You don’t look like you’ve been eating much. Try a bit of toast. Here.” She unwrapped a foil parcel.

  There was a little pile of toast inside, cut into triangles. I couldn’t do it, couldn’t eat any — it actually turned my stomach to look at it. I’d only just woken up. I brought the edges of the foil together, hiding its contents away again.

  “Um, I’m not hungry yet. Maybe in a bit.”

  “Have some tea, then. Here we are.” She put four mugs down on the table and joined Karen and me.

  Simon stayed standing. He was paler than ever, and seemed intent on hovering there. He kept licking his lips, frowning. Finally, he came out with it.

  “You were seen last night, Jem. On the tower.”

  “You what?” spluttered Karen.

  “Jem was out there on the roof, on top of the tower. She must have taken the keys. It was a very dangerous thing to do — to go up there on your own. Questions are being asked. Stephen will be in shortly.”

  “When was this?” Karen asked.

  I sighed. “When you’d gone to sleep. I couldn’t get comfortable. Too many things to think about, so I took a look around. Haven’t you ever wandered about here on your own?” This to Simon.

  “Yes, of course,” he said, “but that’s different. You’re still a child, and I’m an adult, I’m…responsible.” Standing there, shifting his weight from foot to foot and wringing his hands, it was difficult to imagine anyone his age looking more innocent or vulnerable.

  I liked him, I really did, but there was something about that word — responsible. I burst out laughing.

  His pale blue eyes widened with the shock of being laughed at and then brimmed with tears. What was I doing? This was the guy who rescued me, the one who gave me sanctuary just in the nick of time.

  “Sorry,” I said quickly, “I didn’t mean to laugh. And I shouldn’t have used those keys. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” He was watching me carefully, blinking back the hurt I’d caused. “Simon, you’ve been really kind to me. I’d be completely in the shit without you.” He winced, but kept looking. “I couldn’t help exploring last night. It’s an amazing place.”

  His face softened. “Yes,” he said. “It is.” He picked up the keys, which were lying on the table. “I’ll go and check that everything’s locked up and get things ready.” He scuttled out, while Anne poured more tea.

  “The police will be back soon,” she said. “You should eat something….”

  I stayed quiet, folding the top of the foil over, sealing the parcel of toast. I wanted to tell her to leave me alone, I’d eat if I felt like it, but a little voice inside me was telling me to shut up, that she was trying to be kind. So I said nothing, which for me was a big deal. Anne probably just thought I was rude. I glanced up at her, and she was standing there, looking hurt, too, like I’d rejected her or something. For Christ’s sake, it was only a piece of toast.

  There was something else, though. It was the first time our eyes had actually met, and though I tried to ignore it, there it was, plain as day. Her number. 06082011. Less than a year to go. And suddenly her nervousness started to make sense. At some level, whether she understood why or not, she was scared of what I knew. She looked at me, a rabbit caught in the headlights, then swallowed hard and turned away.

  Sure enough, the police came back, and the social worker, Imogen. There were other people, too: men in dark suits, who sat at the back of the room, listening. Karen sat in on the questioning, as the police went over and over the same ground as the day before. I stalled them for a bit while I tried to figure out what they really wanted to know; yes, there were questions about the day at the London Eye, and about Spider, but there was other stuff, too. Someone had obviously told them about the numbers. At this point, the police took a step back and the men in suits came and sat at the table.

  “We’ve been hearing stuff about you, Jem. Interesting stuff. Like the reason why you ran from the Embankment. They’re saying you can predict the future? You can tell when people are going to die. That right?”

  I looked down, saying nothing. One of them produced a set of photographs from his briefcase.

  “Look at these photos and tell me what you see. How long has this one got? Or this one? Can you tell me?”

  They went on and on, until I was hearing that edge of stress and frustration in their voices again.

  Then I spoke.

  “I can tell you. I can tell you everything you want to know.”

  They sat up then, looked quickly at each other — little triumphant glances — and then back at me.

  “Yes, I was there at the London Eye, and I’m pretty sure I saw the bloke who was carrying the bomb. I even spoke to him. I can give you a description. I can tell you about the guy with the tattoos and why he was chasing us. I can even tell you about these pictures.” They were excited now, almost drooling. “I could tell you, and I will, if you bring my mate, Spider, here. I’ll make a full statement, and then we want a car, and some money, a thousand should do it, and we want you to leave us alone and let us get out of here.”

  The guy in the suit leaned forward. “I don’t think you realize what trouble you and your mate are in. You’re looking at some serious charges here. You’re not in a position to negotiate.”

  He didn’t faze me at all. I’d thought this all through — they needed me to talk. “Actually, I think I am. I know you want to solve the bombing, don’t you? And you’d love to know whether your prime minister’s got a future, wouldn’t you? Is he here for the next ten years or going to be taken out by a sniper’s bullet? Does that interest you?”

  “We’ll need to talk about this.” He scraped his chair back and went outside with the others. Karen stayed behind.

  “What are you doing?” she asked. “What are you saying?”

  “I told you yesterday. You just didn’t believe me.”

  “Jem, this has got to stop. These tall tales — it’s gone far enough now, Jem. Stop saying these things. Let me take you home and look after you.”

  “No! It’s not gonna happen. I need them to bring Spider here, and I’m not budging until they do.”

  She sighed, and I could tell she was about to launch into another weary lecture, when the door opened again. The men in suits were back.

  “OK,” one of them said, “it’s a deal.”

  My stomach flipped over. I couldn’t believe it — I’d won.

  “You’ll bring Spider here?”

  He nodded. “After you’ve given us a full statement.”

  “And you’ll provide us with a car and some money like I said?”

  He nodded again, but there was something in the way that the two policemen behind him looked at each other that made me suspicious.

  “I want it all in writing,” I said quickly. “I want you to sign it. A legal agreement.”

  And that’s what I got, there in black and white. I would tell the police what they wanted to know, and they would bring Spider to me before the fifteenth of December and provide us with safe passage out of the abbey. Not being great at reading, I took my time, but it seemed OK. I asked Karen to check it, too, but she refused.

  “This is stupid, Jem. I don’t
want anything to do with it.” She watched while I signed the paper and then announced, “I’m going to get back to the boys now. They need me, too. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

  She gave me a big hug before she left. “Imogen and Anne will be here with you. And you’re to ring if you need anything.”

  “OK,” I said. To be honest, I felt a little twinge as she left. We didn’t exactly see eye to eye — perhaps we never would — but she meant well, I could see that now. But I had to stay focused — everything was going according to plan. All I had to do was tell them what they wanted to know, and then they’d have to keep their side of the bargain.

  They’d have to bring Spider here.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  I gave them exactly what they were waiting to hear. I held some of it back, of course. None of their sodding business what had happened between Spider and me. That was between us. But everything else, plus some “information” of my own about people in the photos they showed me.

  They talked to me, with a tape recorder going, and then they wrote it all down and got me to sign it. I had no problem putting my name to it. This was all part of the plan, taking me one step nearer to where I wanted to be.

  “So when do I see Spider?” I said when I’d signed the statement.

  “It’ll take a bit of arranging — they’re still interviewing him. He was taken back to London, Paddington Green.”

  “Now just wait a minute…”

  “No, it’s all right, love. I’m going to take your statement back to London, see how they’re getting on, and then I’ll be back. I’ll bring Dawson back here.”

  So it was going to be a few hours, then. Nothing I could do about that.

  They gathered their stuff together, clipped their briefcases shut, and were gone. On the way out, they shook hands with me, like we were business partners or something. That’s a good sign, I thought. They’re showing that they’ve made a deal with me. I had to trust them now — what else could I do?

  By now it was lunchtime and Anne, the rector’s wife, had brought me some scrambled eggs on toast, kept warm under a wrapping of silver foil. She didn’t eat with me, but kind of hung around, like she was waiting for something. Eventually, she squeezed some words out awkwardly.

  “Jem, can I talk to you?”

  I shrugged. Didn’t bother me one way or the other.

  She went up to the door and closed it, so that we were alone together in the vestry, just me and her. She wants to persuade me to leave, I’m causing her husband too much trouble, I thought. But I was wrong.

  “They’re saying…they’re saying that you can tell when people are going to die.” Her face was creased into a frown as she searched my face.

  I tried not to look, but I couldn’t avoid her eyes, her need for contact was too strong. 06082011.

  “Oh?” I said, willing her not to ask me.

  “I’m ill, Jem. I’ve got an illness. I haven’t told Stephen, so please…don’t…”

  Hearing her speak the rector’s — her husband’s — name made him more human; made me think I might have been wrong about him earlier. Yes, he was going to live for another thirty years or so, but maybe he wasn’t going to be spoiled for the rest of his life. Maybe it was going to be lonely nights, takeout and boiled eggs on his own in an empty house.

  “The thing is…I need to know. How long I’ve got. So I can plan things, make sure the children are OK, make sure that Stephen will be all right.”

  “Children?” Another shock.

  “Well, they’re pretty grown-up now. Nineteen and twenty-two. But I want to make sure they’re well set, try and pay up the college debts, you know.” She must have realized that I didn’t, because she laughed nervously. “Well, perhaps you don’t, but I’ll feel happier if there aren’t any loose ends. Happier…not happy…” She trailed off.

  “I can’t tell you. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “You do know, though.”

  I chewed my lip.

  “You do know,” she repeated. “I shouldn’t feel so scared, should I? ‘In the true and certain knowledge of eternal life’…” There were tears in the corners of her eyes now, threatening to burst out and trickle down her face. “Why isn’t that a comfort?”

  I was the last person to ask about that. She sat, lost in her own thoughts for a bit. Suddenly, I thought of Britney, how her family had come to terms with her brother’s illness.

  “I think you should tell him,” I said.

  “Stephen?”

  I nodded.

  “I know. I’ve put it off. For a start, while it’s still a secret, it doesn’t seem so real. Sometimes I can pretend it’s not happening, for an hour or so — well, for a few minutes. And then, the other thing is — it will break his heart.” Her voice quavered. “I know he’s a bit pompous — severe, even — but we’ve been so strong together; a good team. How on earth will he cope without me?” The tears were coming for real now, and she leaned forward and held her hankie tight against her eyes, like she was trying to force the tears to stay inside.

  I waited until she stopped and was sitting up again.

  “I’m sorry I can’t help,” I said. And I was, I really was. I felt completely useless.

  “Oh, but you have, Jem, you have. Just telling you has made it easier to face. It’s given me the courage.” She grabbed my hands, and I fought the urge to snatch them away. I couldn’t say anything. I just wanted her to let go, to take her pain away from me. After a while, she did. She stood up, smoothed down her skirt, and shook her head, like she was shaking away the despair. She went to open the door. “Thank you, Jem. God bless you.”

  As far as I could see, I hadn’t done anything. When she’d started crying, it had been dead embarrassing, but it had also been difficult not to join in. Her tears at the thought of dying mirrored my creeping horror of being left alone. Two sides of the same coin.

  Suddenly, the walls of the vestry started to close in on me. I needed a bit of breathing space. I wandered out into the abbey. There were quite a few people around, and I had a feeling that several of them had clocked me as I walked over the memorial stones, trying not to tread on the names of the dead.

  After a few minutes, a woman wearing a head scarf came up to me. I was in the chapel, the place where I’d sat to get warm the morning Simon had let me in.

  “Excuse me,” she said uncertainly. “Are you Jem, the girl they’re all talking about?”

  “I dunno,” I said. “I am Jem, but I don’t know about anything else.”

  “You’ve been on the news, the hunt for you, and there are all sorts of stories on the Internet.” She was standing in front of me, but her legs were starting to sag. “Do you mind if I sit down? I’m a bit…tired.”

  To be honest, I did mind. I had a pretty good idea where this conversation was heading, and I didn’t want to get into all that. I just wanted to be left alone. I said nothing, but she sat down anyway, right up close to me on the cushioned stone bench.

  “The thing is,” she carried on, “they’re saying that you can see the future. People’s futures. That’s why you ran away from the Eye.”

  She stopped and looked at me, and I met her gaze and I did see her future, or at least her end. Two and a half years away. And I thought, You stupid, stupid girl, Jem. I should never, never have told anyone — it should have been my secret right to the end.

  “It’s just rumors,” I muttered. “You know what people are like.”

  “But there’s something, isn’t there? There’s something different about you.” She was searching my face, like she’d find some sort of answer there. “Can you?” she said. “Can you see into the future?”

  I was squirming in my seat now. I tried not to look at her, kept my eyes down at my hands and my feet, kept my mouth shut. It didn’t put her off. In fact, she reached up and picked at the end of her scarf, and then unwound it, revealing her scalp, nearly bald, with a few tufts of hair here and there. It made her look shockingly naked.
r />   She reached out to touch my hand. I wanted to push her away, tell her to back off. I can’t explain to you how odd it was to have a stranger sitting up close to me, wanting to touch me. I’d spent a lifetime making sure there was space between me and everyone else, putting up walls. Physical contact with anyone made me make a face, show my revulsion, move away. Except with Spider, of course.

  Everything had been different with him.

  The strength of this woman’s longing stopped me, though — perhaps somewhere deep inside me I was a decent person after all. I put my hand on top of hers and gently moved it away. Her fingers closed on mine, she felt the scar on my hand and turned it over, gasping when she saw the red, angry tear from the barbed wire.