by S. C. Ransom
“Is everything OK? You look worried.”
“I’m fine, just trying to work this out.”
“But that’s how it works, isn’t it? You can only hear me when I’m right here.”
I nodded and managed to smile at him. I was astonished by everything that was going on. I somehow felt that I had known him forever, and I could barely contain the noise of my thumping heart. I didn’t understand how this was possible, but as I looked into his eyes I felt that everything had changed, and that nothing would ever be the same for me again. No one had made me feel anything like this before. We gazed at one another in silence for a few minutes then he lifted a hand as if to stroke my hair. I instinctively leaned towards him and was amazed to feel the lightest, gentlest of touches.
“I can feel you touch me,” I breathed. “How are you doing that?”
“I … I don’t know.” He held up his hand and looked at it in puzzlement, then tentatively reached out to me again.
“It must somehow be because you have an amulet. No one else – well, no one like you – that I have ever come across has one.” He hesitated, and then touched me again. “It seems to be only my fingertips you can feel. When it’s my whole arm you just get the tingling.” He stroked the length of my long blonde hair, making me shiver. He stopped instantly.
“I’m sorry, that’s obviously a bit too freaky for you.”
“No,” I admitted, not daring to meet his eyes. “That’s possibly the nicest touch I have ever had.” I felt myself redden again as I lifted my head meekly, wondering how brave I could be. I decided to go for it. “You don’t have to stop.”
His face lit up and he reached for my hair again. The sensation was like nothing I had ever experienced before: a combination of the softest touches but charged with something like gentle electricity. Part of me wanted to close my eyes and just focus on the feeling, but that would mean I couldn’t watch him, and I didn’t want to miss a minute of that.
“Can you feel my hair?” I asked, suddenly conscious that this could be a one-way thing.
He grimaced. “A little. I can feel a slight resistance, but no real substance.”
“Is it freaky for you?” Looking at his pained face I was suddenly filled with doubt.
He gave an unexpected laugh, then looked at me, his blue eyes melting. “Hardly. It’s just hugely frustrating when all I want to do is gather you in my arms and kiss you. And I can’t.”
I looked at him in wonder. He watched me anxiously, searching for a reaction from me.
“I would love that too,” I admitted, trying to hold his gaze.
His shoulders relaxed and he seemed to exhale deeply. There was a look of profound tenderness in his eyes.
“Really? Even with all of this?” He gestured towards the mirror and the amulet.
“I can’t begin to understand any of this, and I don’t understand what you are,” I admitted, “but I can’t think of anything I would like more than getting to know you better.”
Somehow, it was the wrong thing to say. The hope which had filled his face suddenly faded, and he dropped his gaze to the floor.
“There’s nothing worth knowing,” he whispered, a bitter edge to his words. “There is nothing of me left. Really, there is no point in my being here.”
“That can’t be true. It just can’t be,” I said quickly, trying to soothe him. The last thing I wanted was for him to decide to leave.
There seemed to be a huge struggle going on inside him. He sat there silently for a few minutes. As I watched he seemed to come to a decision. I couldn’t bear it if he left and didn’t come back. The only thing to do was to persuade him he had to stay before he could speak.
“Please, just let me say something.” I cast around desperately for inspiration, hoping to find some persuasive argument with which to sway him. Nothing came to me. The only option open to me, I decided, was to be as honest as possible. He waited, a guarded look on his face.
“Thank you,” I breathed, “I want to get this right.” I gave myself another few seconds to calm down.
“I don’t know where you are from, or how you got there, or what you are now. All I do know is that you and I can talk to one another and see one another, and … I can feel your touch. I just want to spend some time with you, in whatever strange way that’s possible.”
As I finished, I realised it had turned into more of a speech than I had intended, so I watched as he struggled with his emotions, but said nothing more.
He looked at me frowning slightly, as if weighing up the alternatives. I suddenly couldn’t resist giving it one last shot.
“Please stay. What do you have to lose?”
“Well, if you put it like that, I guess not a lot.” He smiled at me as he visibly relaxed. “OK, you win: I’ll stay until you get bored.”
I longed to throw my arms around him, but had to satisfy myself with leaning my reflection towards him. “You’ll find I have an extremely high tolerance for boredom,” I murmured as he started to stroke my hair again.
“I have so many questions I don’t know where to start,” I said finally.
“I don’t want you to ask them. I don’t want to put you off so soon. Will they wait until tomorrow?”
“Of course,” I yawned. I suddenly realised I was exhausted. “But please, just promise me you will come back this time.”
“I promise.” He dipped his face towards me, bending down over my shoulder so his lips could brush my collarbone. I could see it all perfectly but could feel just the gentlest of touches.
“I wish I could feel your lips properly,” I whispered.
He sighed sadly, shaking his head. “This is never going to work.” He paused, then suddenly grinned. “But it could be enjoyable trying, don’t you think?”
I laughed. “So you’re sure you’ll be here tomorrow?”
“Nothing could keep me away. And keep that on,” he said, nodding towards my bracelet. “Don’t take it off, and I’ll be back in the morning.” He leaned further towards my reflection and I saw him gently kiss the top of my head.
“Goodnight,” he whispered, and was gone.
Even though I was exhausted, I tossed and turned for most of the night, my mind racing, only dropping asleep as dawn started breaking. When I finally woke it was too late to spend too much time reflecting on what had happened, but I was careful to shower and conceal the bags under my eyes before I sat down at my desk. I whispered his name, feeling rather self-conscious. He was there in an instant, and I welcomed the tingling feeling as he moved his arm into the same space as mine.
“Good morning,” he smiled. “I was wondering if you were going to stay in bed all day. I didn’t think I’d get here early enough and I’ve still had time to have a good look round. Nice house.”
“You haven’t been walking through my family, have you?” I asked in mock-seriousness, wondering how I was able to make a joke about something so bizarre.
“Not guilty,” he laughed.
“So, can you walk through the walls then, like a real ghost?”
“I can, but most of the time I choose not to. It makes me feel a bit more normal that way. But at least it means I don’t have to do any breaking and entering to get to you.” He gave a crooked smile. “In fact, I’m the perfect burglar. I just can’t pick up any of the loot. But I can tell you what your neighbours are up to though, if you want.”
“No I don’t want!” I exclaimed quickly.
I sat back and took a long look at him. He was dressed exactly as before, his hair just as casually ruffled, his skin smooth.
“This may sound as if it’s an odd question, but do you change at all? I mean, does your hair grow, do you have other clothes stashed somewhere, do you need to eat, that sort of thing?”
“That’s a lot of questions. The quick answers are no, no and no, but I suspect you are going to want more detail than that. Shall we go somewhere where you don’t have to whisper?”
“Good point.” I quickly dropped
my voice. “Do I need to be able to see your reflection to hear you?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“We could go outside, but then I won’t be able to see your face.” And that would be a real shame, I added to myself.
“You’ll still be able to hear me though, I think. Does it matter if you can’t see me?”
“It’s just easier to believe that you are real when I can actually see that you are there.”
“Do you have a little mirror which could fit in your pocket? Then you could whip it out if you wanted to see if I was serious or not.” He was teasing me now.
“How about if I’m walking?” I wondered. “Would you be able to keep pace with me so that we could keep talking?”
“That might take a bit of practice.” He pursed his lips, a thoughtful look on his face. “I don’t see why it shouldn’t work though. It doesn’t look as if you’d be able to outrun me.” His face crinkled into a grin.
“I get enough abuse from my brother, thank you, without having to take it from you as well!”
“Shhh,” he cautioned. I heard noises from Josh’s room.
“Let me grab some breakfast and I’ll find an excuse to go for a walk.”
My parents were already at the table, having a leisurely Sunday breakfast and reading the papers. The sunlight streamed in through the open French doors. It was going to be a lovely day.
“Morning, Alex,” smiled Dad, putting down his paper in order to give me a hug. “Are you feeling better now?”
I hesitated, confused, then a small voice appeared in my head.
“You went to bed early last night with a headache, remember?” I could hear him laughing quietly.
“Oh, yes! Thank you,” I smiled at Dad. “No headache at all this morning.”
“So I guess the date with Rob didn’t go that well?” asked Mum. “Where did he take you?”
I had hoped that they had forgotten about that. It all seemed so unimportant now. I reached for the bread basket and started buttering a slice of Mum’s home-made cinnamon loaf while I worked out how I was going to get out of this interrogation.
“To The Old Town Hall in Chertsey. He thought he was doing me a favour taking me somewhere cool, and he was a bit surprised when the staff recognised me.”
“Ah, he didn’t appreciate that, then?”
“No, it sort of set the tone for the evening, I’m afraid.” I sighed and went for the direct approach. “Do you mind if we don’t talk about it?”
“Of course not, but…” started Mum. There was a muffled thump as Dad kicked her under the table. “No. Absolutely right. None of our business.” She was suddenly very interested in her breakfast. Dad gave me a quick wink and I smiled in relief.
“I’m going to walk into Walton this morning,” I said, putting my plate in the dishwasher. I realised too late that it wasn’t a smart move.
“Oh, great,” said Mum, “I need a few things, so we can drive in if you’d like. You can practise parking in the multi-storey.”
“Um, actually, I wasn’t planning on shopping. I could just do with a bit of time on my own.” I cringed inwardly as I saw them exchange looks. “There’s nothing wrong, I just fancy a walk down by the river, that’s all. Don’t make a big production out of it.” I shut the dishwasher hard and quickly left the kitchen before they could get all apologetic. I hurriedly stuffed a few essentials into my small rucksack and ran back downstairs, by which time Mum and Dad were out in the garden. I scribbled a quick note on the blackboard in the kitchen to say that I wouldn’t be back for lunch: I wanted to make sure that I had plenty of time.
I set off down the road, reaching into my bag to get the headphones for my mobile. As I tucked the end of the lead into my jeans pocket I could hear Callum laughing.
“Good idea!”
“Well, I don’t want people thinking I’m completely mad as I walk down the street talking to myself.”
“Absolutely, I wouldn’t want anyone carting you off.”
His voice was a bit patchy, as if he were talking into a microphone but periodically turning away. I tried to make sure that I was walking at a consistent pace, but it was harder than I expected. The tingle in my arm kept coming and going too.
We walked down the main road, past the fields where they were growing coriander and then alongside the back of the swan sanctuary. The swans were acting very strangely, squawking and hissing at me – normally they took no notice at all of the people walking by.
“Exactly where are we going?” he asked after we had been walking at a good pace for about twenty minutes.
“Just round the corner and over the bridge, then there is a nice towpath down the Thames from Walton to Hampton Court. Doing the loop down there and then back on the other side should take a good few hours, especially if we stop for a while.”
“I can’t escape from the river, it seems,” he sighed.
I stopped dead. “I’m really sorry – I completely forgot you said yesterday that you didn’t like the river. We can go somewhere else.”
There was a silence, then suddenly the tingle and a rather loud voice in my head: “… stop like that without warning. I was halfway down the road.”
I couldn’t help giggling at the thought of him striding down the road without me. “Sorry,” I tried to keep a straight face, “I forgot.”
I pulled the small mirror out of my pocket and considered him. His dark blond hair was being gently ruffled by the wind. He pulled me out of my reverie. “You were saying something before you inconveniently stopped?”
“Ah, yes. I forgot that the river wasn’t a good place for you. If we turn around we can go across the golf course. Would that be easier?”
“No, the river is fine. It plays a big part in my story, so we may as well be close to it.”
We set off again, crossed over Walton Bridge and were soon free of the roads and on the towpath. It quickly became clear that even if I couldn’t see Callum, other creatures could. Every dog, duck or bird we passed seemed fascinated by him: no wonder the swans at the sanctuary had been so excited. Every so often he would have to shoo various animals away, as they took no notice of me at all.
“Why do they like you so much?” I asked after a particularly enthusiastic spaniel had been reclaimed by its owner.
“I’m not sure, but they often react like this.”
“Perhaps we should get off the main path and then we won’t have quite so many to contend with,” I suggested. “If we go over the bridge up ahead, we can sit for a while on Sunbury Lock Island.” Really, I wanted to get my mirror out again. It was fine talking to him as if he was on the headphones, but it was exponentially improved by being able to look at him as well.
Sunbury Lock Island seemed as good a place as any to be somewhere peaceful. It was a long, thin island, accessible only by one public footbridge and over the weir, which was private. We had often come here as children, running around all the boat sheds and playing hide and seek in the woods. Most of the buildings were private, but it never stopped us dodging in and out of the grounds. As it was a Sunday, all the businesses in the boat sheds were shut and with no access to the other side of the river I reckoned it should be pretty quiet.
We went over the bridge and found a quiet glade to sit in, overlooking the river. There was a lot of hustle and bustle going on around us on the water and on each bank, but on the island everything was peaceful. I rummaged in my bag for a bottle of water and when I looked up again there were about a dozen small birds sitting around us. I felt like Snow White.
“You know, in a way this is the creepiest thing so far,” I said, sweeping my free arm around to indicate the wildlife.
“I know, it is a bit odd. It doesn’t happen quite this much in town. Maybe all the pigeons are used to us.”
A finger of ice ran down my back, but I tried to keep my tone even. “Us?” I queried. “You’re not alone then?”
“No … I spend quite a lot of time with my sister, Catherine.”
Sister. Sisters were always tricky, in my experience, but at least it wasn’t girlfriend. “So how come the two of you are there?”
“I will tell you, but do you mind if it’s not right now? It’s not a happy story and at the moment I’m sitting here on a beautiful island in the sunshine with a beautiful girl,” he paused and I felt him stroke the length of my hair, “and I’d rather think about happy things.”
“Well, that seems reasonable,” I agreed, secretly thrilled by his description of me. “So … what do you want to talk about?”
“I was actually thinking that talking was overrated. Why don’t you lie down here and let me stroke your hair. I love being able to do that, to actually touch you.”
I lay down in the soft grass, turning on to my side and propping up the mirror on a small stone. From where I lay I could watch his face as he gently moved his hand down the length of my hair. His expression was completely unguarded, and so full of tenderness it nearly took my breath away.
With the sun beating down and the touch of his hand so soft it could almost be the wind, I felt my eyes close and drifted off to sleep. It can’t have been for more than a few minutes, and as soon as my eyes opened, I looked for him in the mirror, but he wasn’t beside me. I picked it up and used it to scan around the glade behind me.
It was quite a small clearing, but it went down to the water’s edge. The grass was fresh and vibrant, and the meadow flowers were wafting in the gentle breeze. Apart from the small gap in the trees that we had come through, it was enclosed by vegetation, making it quite a private space, and my presence was likely to put off anyone else from invading.
And then I saw him. He was standing by the water’s edge, staring into the depths. He looked so vulnerable, his beautiful blue eyes downcast and his long fingers absently running through his mane of hair. I continued to watch him, luxuriating in being able to see all of him. A strange contentment settled over me, and I realised that I never wanted this to stop. I wanted – no, I needed – to be with him, to be able to see him and talk to him, to make him smile.
