No Such Thing As Immortality

by Sarah Tranter

  Susie was truly lost for words. Rachael, her housemate and best friend in the world, had always been … she wasn’t quite sure what adjective to put there, but this?

  Rachael laughed at the look on her face. ‘It’s called marketing, Suse. Valentine’s Day is coming up and I refuse to miss an opportunity.’

  Picking the paper up again, Susie braved another look at the advertisement in question and silently groaned. It was eye-catching, but neither that or brilliant were the descriptions immediately springing to mind.

  Firmly schooling her features, she attempted to form an opinion on the Casper-like ghosts shooting cupid’s arrows around gravestones, surrounded by floating bulbous red love hearts. Subtly clearing her throat, she then tackled the words that were so clearly Rachael’s …

  No love or humping in this life?

  Find out who you loved and humped in a past life! What did it for you then may do it for you now. Let the clues from the past show you the way to finding true love. Your Soul Mate is out there! Let a past life lead the way.

  Contact Rachael, Past life Regressionist (bona fide) and This Life Guide for Love-Seeking Souls

  While attempting to dispel the notion of Casper humping, Susie asked, ‘Aren’t there laws about this kind of thing?’

  ‘Like what? The words are all mine.’

  Not humping Caspers. ‘No, I can see the words are yours love … About advertising and what you’re implying.’

  ‘I haven’t promised to find their Soul Mate.’

  ‘Look,’ Susie was going to take the easy way out, ‘I’m really not the person to ask. It’s all very … enterprising of you.’ She congratulated herself on both her diplomacy and for finding the perfect word for the situation, but paused as she realised that she had a responsibility here.

  Groaning audibly now, she continued, ‘But you know I’d rather see it come with a health warning.’

  Rachael shifted awkwardly in her seat. ‘That’s not fair. I’m qualified now.’

  ‘Qualified? I’ve never understood how someone as intelligent as you can have gone into something as … as—’

  ‘You can hardly see me teaching snotty-nosed brats like you do!’

  ‘I never set out to teach snotty-nosed bra— They aren’t snotty-nosed brats!’ Susie gritted her teeth. ‘And I love teaching and I’m good at what I do. But you’ve a degree in economics, Rach, and have thrown away a successful career in banking to peddle—’

  ‘My father’s bank and I did my time. This is what I was always destined to do, Suse. I love it, too, and I am flaming good at it to boot!’

  Susie couldn’t help the ‘humph!’, but immediately regretted it as Rachael’s visage shifted. Her cheeks, normally so pale against her dark hair, flushed and her amber eyes flashed. Susie’s stomach lurched. She wouldn’t … surely she wouldn’t.

  ‘You’re going by something that happened before I was trained and I could make it all right if you’d simply let me regress you again!’

  Susie desperately reinforced the locked box that stood in that darkened corner of her mind with heavy chains and padlocks. ‘You are never getting into my head again. Ever! In fact, nobody is ever getting into my head again.’

  How could Rachael have crossed the line? They never talked of that night.

  ‘I accept things didn’t—’

  ‘Stop, Rachael,’ Susie growled.

  ‘No! This is the perfect opportunity to talk about it! It’s time we stopped pussyfooting around your experiences that night.’

  Susie snatched her hand back as Rachael reached for it and shuffled her chair several inches further along the table. She crossed both arms protectively over her chest. ‘Don’t do this, Rach.’

  ‘I know things didn’t go well,’ Rachael said gently. ‘But that was the drinks, the Ouija board, and … well, what we were all smoking didn’t help.’

  Loss. Such agonising, all-consuming loss. It was as if the locked box in Susie’s head wept its abject wretchedness. No matter how many padlocks she applied to the box containing the memories of that night, the feelings she’d experienced always found a way out. They seemed to seep, as if they could soak into its very walls and escape as vapour.

  There was nothing for it Susie realised, kicking her chair back and getting up from her seat, but her escape was hampered by Rachael grabbing the frayed and hanging pocket of her dressing gown.

  ‘It’s ten years ago now,’ Rachael said softly. ‘You have to let me put it right. I can put it right.’

  Desolation. Susie closed her eyes, letting the sensation take its course. Ten years, ten days, ten seconds. Time was irrelevant here. It could never be put right. The moment she’d let Rachael into her intoxicated brain, for what had promised to be an amusing attempt at discovering a past life, the damage had been done. It was irreparable. She was irreparable. She stared at Rachael, incredulous at her naivety.

  ‘Come on,’ Rachael coaxed, before grinning and attempting to lighten the mood. ‘I could be your “this life guide” and lead you to this Soul Mate of yours.’

  ‘Rach,’ Susie groaned, depositing herself back in her seat and holding her head in her hands. ‘I didn’t like you when I first met you and should have gone with my gut!’

  Rachael actually chuckled. ‘Despite your words though, you love me now. Once you got to know me you couldn’t but.’

  ‘More fool me. I should have followed my instincts. They told me you were dangerous.’ Susie crossed her arms on the table. ‘I will say this once again, in case you have any doubts in that warped mind of yours: nobody is ever getting into my head again. And you can times that exponentially when it comes to you!’

  ‘Suse … What you experienced was—’

  ‘Was crap, Rach! I know what you think it was, but it was crap. Playing with hypnosis or whatever the hell it was you did to me, in the state that we were in, was asking for trouble. No wonder my brain did what it did. You have chucked in your career to peddle crap. And the worst of it is that you don’t see it for what it is. You genuinely believe in past lives, Soul Mates – in fact any spooky dumb-arse thing. Oh, and did I forget to mention Fate, there? It’s nuts. Completely nuts. You’re nuts!’

  ‘Kooky perhaps, but not—’

  ‘Nuts! And I seriously worry about you! I mean the latest is so far beyond ridiculous it’s …Who, sound of mind, could possibly think that their neighbour’s cat was their Soul Mate!’

  There was a sharp intake of breath from Rachael. Susie knew that had been a cheap shot.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry. I know you believe it and consider yourself to be in a difficult situation, but it’s just, it’s just … nuts! I can’t think of a kinder word to use!’

  ‘You’ve already made your views on Matey perfectly clear, thank you. So how about you stop trying to distract me here, because I know that’s what you’re up to, and we get back to talking of—’

  ‘He’s a cat, Rach! A cat! Rob’s cat at that!’

  ‘Susie! I don’t expect you to understand!’ Pain flashed in Rachael’s eyes. She continued quietly, ‘I’m not sure I even understand it myself. It must be a blip. A definite blip in the system.’ With resolve she went on, ‘But I can help you, Suse. If only you’d let me!’

  Not a chance.

  ‘Why Rob didn’t leg it out of the building as fast as he could that day, I’ll never know,’ Susie said. ‘I’m pleased he didn’t though because I like him. I did instantly. He’s fun, even if he does humour you too much. But you wouldn’t have seen me for dust. You gave the impression he was moving in to a building occupied by loons. I’ll never forget that look on his face as his cat jumped into your arms and you started spouting total crap at it! Talk about first impressions. We hadn’t even spoken to Rob at that stage!’

  ‘You’re so in denial.’ Rachael shook her head sadly, refusing to be baited. ‘How you can possibly not believe in past lives and Soul Mates after what you remembered that night, I don’t know. Let me regress you again, help reduce your nega
tivity towards it – at least recognise him for who he was. He was your Soul Mate, Suse. You lost him in 1826. He couldn’t have been anyone else. And he could be out there right now, needing to be found.’

  Betrayal. Complete betrayal. Damn it! ‘For God’s sake! I don’t believe in past lives. I don’t believe in Soul Mates. And I absolutely don’t bloody-well want one! Especially if he’s got four legs and fur!’

  ‘I just knew you’d use Matey this way. I told you, he’s a blip!’

  ‘That changes nothing! Peter is—’

  ‘As boring as shite! As I’ve told you on countless occasions. And totally not the one for you. He’s not your Soul Mate. The one you remembered that night was. The one you lost when you were Hannah.’

  Hannah. Too many feelings seeped out now. Susie was awash. And … She was not going to remember him! Loss. Desolation. Betrayal.

  ‘It wasn’t real!’ Susie cried, desperately shaking her head. ‘Only you could ever think it was! We were all out of our heads. Nothing more, nothing less.’

  ‘I know it was real. And I can help. Please let me put it right.’

  Nobody could ever put it right, least of all Rachael. Why couldn’t she understand that? Susie’s life must now be viewed in two distinct phases: pre and post that January day a decade ago.

  But Susie comforted herself with the realisation that she had learnt some important lessons from the experience: no alcohol, no recreational drugs, no letting anyone into her head. And absolutely no falling in love.

  The latter was key to her ever achieving peace of mind. She could never risk experiencing for real the sensations her abused brain had thrown at her. Even that night, when their intensity had been excruciating, she innately knew they had been mere echoes, and what she experienced now, mere tasters of what such loss and betrayal would feel like for real.

  She couldn’t risk it. Peter was safe. He could never stir that depth of emotion within her. For that reason he was … perfect. Why hadn’t she seen that before? He was perfect. She’d been procrastinating, held back by … she didn’t know what. But he had to be the way forward.

  She was brought out of her thoughts by Rachael giving her a hug. ‘Okay. I give up. I’m sorry. I just got it into my head that now might be the time to try and broach things again, to offer my help. But you’re never going to accept it, no matter how much you need it. Forgive me?’

  Susie raised her arms to limply return Rachael’s hug and gave a small nod. She knew Rachael was only trying to make things right. But she didn’t know the half of it. But perhaps now had been the right time to talk about things? If they hadn’t, she’d not have seen how perfect Peter was. ‘I’m sorry too, especially about Matey. But not for calling you nuts. I have no choice but to stand by that.’

  ‘You’ve called me worse.’ Rachael grinned, releasing Susie to cross to the other side of the open-plan room. She now focused on the overflowing bookcase next to the television. ‘No more talk of that night. No more hurting each other. It’s Saturday morning and it’s about time we enjoyed it. You aren’t seeing the bore until—’

  ‘Peter.’

  ‘That’s what I said,’ Rachael flung a bright smile over her shoulder. ‘You’re not seeing him until tonight. It’s peeing it down outside. We can leave the supermarket until mid-week, sooo …’

  She swung around with a huge beam on her face, waving around what she’d retrieved from the shelf. ‘We can have a George Silbury day! Back to back films. I hold here, in my very hands, his latest DVD! I didn’t think it came out for a few weeks, but there it was and I felt inspired. How good a friend am I?’

  Susie felt like laughing hysterically and couldn’t prevent the out-of-control, demented giggle. All the talk of that night … and now a George Silbury day! Why was this happening? Ten years … and now this. She already felt so battered and bruised. She didn’t want any more reminders of how much of a mess she was, of just how close she was to … She’d called Rachael nuts. Rachael was nuts in a nutty way. Always had been, although Matey did take the biscuit. But she … She was nuts in the lock you up and throw away the key way.

  Rachael fiddled with the DVD player, obliviously wittering away. Susie hardly heard a word.

  They’d gone to see a film. The night after the night before. All the housemates: her, Rachael, Jen, Pip and Clare. It was the 11.00 p.m. showing. They’d still been hung-over. She’d been that and post-traumatic, the events of the preceding night still a gaping wound.

  It had, appropriately, been a horror film. They’d screamed for England. She’d just stared. Stared at his eyes. George Silbury’s eyes, she’d subsequently discovered. It was an early, minor role. Make-up, scars down his face. But his eyes … She’d become fixated. He was two-dimensional, acting a part. He was ripping people’s throats out. But his eyes were beautiful. His eyes were trying to tell her something.

  Her brain had been so screwed.

  And the really desperately insane thing about it all was that his eyes still had that effect on her. His intense, hypnotic eyes had the power to transfix her. She’d spent years watching his films. Knowing it wasn’t remotely healthy, but somehow not able to stop. It was the most ridiculous, yet compelling sensation.

  She’d never told Rachael why she watched his films. She’d played along when it was put down to the way he looked. Rachael would have applied some ridiculous mumbo-jumbo reasoning to the sensation. Anyone else would have had her committed.

  But Susie knew it was simply down to his being caught up in the fallout of the most awful night of her life. If they’d watched another film …? In the state she’d been in, she’d have had the same reaction to Donald Duck!

  Susie inhaled deeply. She was going to resist the pull. ‘I’m going to pass.’ She felt horrid at the hurt look in Rachael’s eyes, but said, ‘You go ahead, love. I’m going to pop over to Peter’s. He was keen we do something and I’ve not been seeing enough of him. I’ll catch up with you later.’

  ‘Peter? You are going to see Peter Boyles rather than drool over George Silbury?’

  Susie simply nodded, heading to her bedroom to get dressed. She tried to picture Donald Duck’s eyes. But all she saw was Donald Duck with someone else’s eyes … still trying to tell her something.

  Chapter Three

  George Silbury raised his eyes from the latest script changes and grinned broadly. He was instantly out of his seat and embracing the woman who had entered the room. ‘Cassie, Cassie, Cassie!’ he cried, lifting his sister up in his arms and swinging her round in circles.

  Laughing, but batting him over the shoulder with her notebook, Cassie urged, ‘Put me down, George. We’re far too old for this!’

  ‘Speak for yourself,’ he chuckled, but quickly lowered her to the ground before they wiped out the unsuspecting girl who had entered the small room, arms piled high with make-up. Kara, he thought her name was. He addressed her, laughter still in his voice. ‘Later. Come back later.’ On seeing her anxious look, he quickly added with a reassuring smile, ‘You’ve done your part, Kara. If they don’t like it, blame me. I’ll see you later.’

  George caught Cassie’s amused look as she watched the blushing girl leave the room. He ignored the raised eyebrows his sister sent his way. He hated the fact that women no longer acted normally around him.

  Thank God Cassie still did.

  Rubbing his shoulder dramatically, he teased, ‘Don’t you ever go anywhere without that notebook of yours? It’s not much better than the sticks you used to beat me with.’

  ‘I did not!’ Cassie declared, laughing, and playfully batting him with the notebook again.

  ‘Nice to see you too, Sis.’ George dodged her book and grinned. ‘And you did beat me with sticks. I despised you there for a while.’

  He truly had, he realised guiltily. Their relationship hadn’t started well. He had never understood why. Yes, she’d beaten him with sticks. Not that her efforts had hurt anything more than his pride – but he’d more than deserved it. He’d consta
ntly set her up for falls and rejected her as she’d traipsed after him. She’d never given up though, determined to win him over. And she had certainly done that. He was closer to her now than he was to either of his brothers.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Cassie declared with undisguised feeling, shocking him from his nostalgia.

  What on earth was she sorry for? He watched her slump down in the chair he’d earlier vacated and press her forehead. ‘I’ve missed you so much.’

  What the hell? George grabbed the only other chair in the room and positioned it before her so he could sit astride and look at her over its back. ‘Cas?’ he gently prompted.

  ‘I’m fine. Really I’m fine. It’s just so lovely to see you again.’

  He was frowning, because he’d never seen Cassie like this. He’d detected something in their earlier telephone conversation but this was …? ‘You talk like we haven’t seen each other for years when we all spent Christmas together. It’s not been much more than five or six weeks.’ Attempting to make her smile, he said, ‘I know I’m easy to miss and all that, but …’

  He earned another bat with the notebook and took relief in the light-hearted intermission, but then continued, ‘Are you going to tell me what this is all about?’

  Cassie slowly raised her head and stared at him.

  ‘You’re beginning to worry me here, Cas.’ He tried to keep his voice light, but he was alarmed at the almost haunted look in her eyes. ‘What’s going on? Is it a man? Has someone hurt you, because if they have …’

  Cassie smiled and shook her head. He raised his eyebrows, not at all convinced.

  ‘It’s not a man. Well … actually one of them was. An evil little man, but the—’

  ‘I knew it!’ he exploded, leaping from his chair. He furiously ran his hands through his hair. ‘Who is he and—’ He abruptly stopped in his tracks as her words sank in. ‘One of them?’

  Cassie started to laugh. ‘It’s not as it sounds. Sorry! I should have made myself clear. My mind is just not …’ She paused, her laughter drying up and she looked at him through those haunted eyes. ‘I think I need a favour.’