The Relic Keeper

by Anderson, N David

  The face that appeared through the crack in the door was older than Mathew had expected, and he was taken aback. The woman peered out into the twilight at him and waited expectedly, eventually saying, “Can I help you?”

  “Err, yes. Are you Jessica Lyal?” The woman looked at him quizzically.

  “I was once,” she stated enigmatically.

  “Look, you don’t know me, well not exactly, but I know you, or at least I knew you once. The thing is…well I need to speak to about something. It’s about something that happened long ago when you were young, and it’s really important.” He floundered. He was making a mess of this opening conversation that he’d rehearsed a thousand times. “Look, it’s really cold out here, could I come in?”

  “I don’t let strangers into my house you know.”

  “I imagine you don’t. But I’m not really a stranger. We have met and I really need to talk to you.”

  “Tell me your name.”

  “I’ll come to that. I know it sounds weird but I’m a sort of relation and if you’ll let me in I’ll try and explain….”

  “Will you explain the past or the present?”

  “Sorry?”

  “I don’t talk on my doorstep and I don’t let strangers into the house. This is a nasty world we live in. Now, you want to explain something to me and you assume that it’s something that I want to hear. Correct?”

  “Well, yes I suppose. It’s something that I need to tell. It’s something that you should know. Please could I come in, you’ve no idea how long I’ve travelled and how far out of my way this has been.”

  The woman looked at him for a long time before saying: “I know who you claim to be, we do have communications down here you know. I do still read. I wondered if you would show up here. You’d better come in and say whatever you have to say. But I warn you, I have a gun, and I’ll use it if need be.” Then she opened the door fully and stepped back to allow him into the cottage.

  Mathew had expected the interior of the house to have a rustic charm that he associated with old rural buildings. What he saw stunned him. The door opened into a front room, which was light and white in colour and had a series of black and white photographs around the wall. He recognised the Pyramids of Giza and a picture of a city skyline that could have been New York, although the buildings were different, and Mathew wondered when the World Trade Centre towers has been demolished. Stonehenge, Ayers Rock, the Arc de Triomphe, Westminster, and others that he realised he’d seen but couldn’t place. In one corner of the room stood a glistening metal tower comprising of lights, dials and controls; it was the nearest thing to a hi-fi system that he’d seen, although he couldn’t spot an obvious place to insert a record or disk. A giant screen - a real one, not an ethervision hologram - turned off, was positioned by the side of it, and a series of what appeared to be electronic cupboards ran along the length of the room. The chairs were deep and cream, with rounded corners, and there was a two-seater sofa next to one of them, on which a black cat dozed with no interest in the visitor. The table in the centre of the room was circular and glass, with three chrome legs and silver chess set positioned in the centre of it. The floor was covered in a deep red wool carpet. Draped across the windows were fabric blinds, decorated in peacock colours that gave the impression that dozens of eyes were staring into the house. Although the room was light there was no obvious source from which it emanated.

  “Nice room,” he said, rather surprised.

  “It suits,” replied Jessica. “Most young people feel it a little old fashioned for their tastes.”

  “These are excellent,” said Mathew, motioning to the photographs that adorned the walls.

  “Yes, I was quite good in my day.”

  “You took these? You took these pictures? You have a fantastic eye for a picture. You get that from your grandmother you know.”

  “Indeed. Now, have you come here to comment on my pictures or for some more prosaic reason?”

  “Yeah, look I’m sorry to spring this on you, but I need to explain. You said that you knew who I was, is that right?”

  “No. I said I knew who you claimed you were. Well, get on with it. Say what you have to. For the sake of being polite I’ll let you speak. But then I have something that I need to tell you. But please, sit down and say what you have to. Are you hungry?”

  “No.”

  “Drink?”

  “You got scotch?”

  “Certainly. And I think on this occasion I may join you in one.”

  She went to one of the cupboards and held two tall and curved glasses under it, both of which were alternately filled with ice and whisky.

  The lights buzzed for a second, flickered, then returned to normal. Jessica placed a large glass of scotch in front of Mathew.

  “It’s the weather,” Jessica said, her eyes turned towards the lights as if she’d been asked about them. “The lights sometimes go around here on days like this when a storm’s coming.”

  She moved across the bright room and settled into a large pale blue chair on opposite from her guest, placing her own glass beside her. She took a small sip of the drink and looked inquisitively at Mathew.

  “Look,” he said nervously, “this is going to sound really strange, and I really appreciate you letting me into your home like this, but I need to speak to you, and I have something to tell you that you may find a bit…weird.”

  “Very well.” She paused and carried on staring. “But I should warn you that I really do have a gun the house.” She cocked her head to one side and examined his reaction.

  “No no no, you won’t need that. It’s just that…well, you don’t know me, well not really.” He stopped, gulped a mouthful of scotch and tried to continue. “Shit this is hard.”

  “Let me help you then. I’m old, not senile. So let’s try this for a reason for you sitting there like an embarrassed child. You’re Mathew Lyal. You’ve been dead since 1999 but have now come back and you’ve been looking for me and some answers that only I would have. How’s that?”

  Mathew sat in silent disbelief for a second.

  “So how do you know who I am?”

  “As I said, I keep up with the news. I’ve been expecting a message from you since I first heard about your…recovery, a few weeks ago. Although I hadn’t expected you to drop in unannounced, to be honest.”

  “I’d been trying to find you, then, well, something happened and I had to get out of London quickly, and, well, it’s a long story. Why didn’t you try to contact me?”

  “Hmm. What does it tell us when people don’t make contact?” He looked at her, not understanding. “Does it say, ‘I’m looking forward to meeting you’, or perhaps, ‘I’ve missed you’? Or maybe it says, ‘I don’t have anything I want to say to you.’”

  There was a long silence while Mathew tried to think what to say.

  “Look,” he began. “You do believe that I am Mathew Lyal don’t you?”

  “Oh yes, I haven’t forgotten you. When I said I knew who you claimed to be that wasn’t what I meant.”

  “Then of course I’d have something to say to you. I’ve a lifetime of catching up to do. I need to speak to you so badly….” She held up a hand to stop him.

  “I’m sure that you want to speak to me. The question is, what have I to say in return. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but this might not be the family reunion that you’ve been expecting.

  “Now I have plenty of time, although I think that maybe you don’t….”

  “No no, I have all the time in the world to be here. I….” She stopped him again.

  “Mr Lyal, you are obviously in a rush to be somewhere. One does not appear at a stranger’s house late at night because you have plenty of time.” He tried to say something but Jessica talked over him in a voice that seemed used to having its own way. “Since you are here I’ll tell you what you need to know, although it won’t be what you want to hear. And after that, Mr Lyal, you should leave and continue on whatever course you
are on.”

  “You can call me dad.”

  “I can’t. My father died when I was very young, and I’m not ready to accept his return. So please, don’t claim that privilege. I must admit I was surprised when I saw you on the…” she waved a hand to the screen positioned on the far wall, “…on the watcher. I was shocked and horrified, and sad, and in a strange way relieved that you’d got what you always wanted. Another chance at what you’d lost. But take my feelings into consideration. I lost something. I lost my father, and I’ve spent my life not knowing you. I have a few memories of you, but I haven’t spent my days awaiting your return, so forgive me if I seem less than glad that you’ve come back to me, but I’m not anxious to renew an acquaintance with my dead father after…what, 70 odd years?”

  Mathew jumped slightly as thunder sounded loudly outside. He glanced up and saw the rain beat hard against the windows of the cottage; the flowers in the garden bent by the force of the storm reminded him briefly of the sandcastles he’d built on the beach as a child being wrecked by the incoming tide. He hated the way his mind jumped about between the past and the present, and forced himself to concentrate on what was heaping here and now. He ignored the pain in his chest and continued.

  “You don’t know what hell I’ve been through to find you. Everything I’ve done, all that I’ve been through, it’s all for you and your mother. Everything is.”

  “My mother? Ah yes, I thought she’d be in the topic of conversation. And no, by the way, you haven’t been through hell for us. There is a saying: ‘Be careful what you wish for, it might come true’. Then I think it’s the Jews that say, ‘God said take whatever you want, but pay the price’. Have you heard those adages Mr Lyal? Everything you’ve done, whatever that might be, and I don’t really want to know, everything you’ve done has been for yourself. Like everything you ever did.”

  “No. That’s not true. You and Paula are the only things that have ever mattered to me, that’s why I’m here. To make up for all that time we lost. I had the best years of my life taken. I missed you growing up. I missed everything, through no fault of my own, and now I want a chance to make up for that.” He swallowed a large mouthful of scotch. It burned his throat and he sat looking at his daughter, with such a feeling of love and loss and sorrow that his whole body ached.

  “I’ve been looking for Paula,” he continued. She isn’t preserved at the Walden Centre, like we arranged. If I can find her, then we can bring her back, we can all be together again.”

  “Mum’s dead.” Although Mathew had accepted this, it was the first time anyone had actually told him that Paula had gone and he felt his eyes begin to sting.

  “Where is she? I miss her. I need her now more than ever.”

  Another clap of thunder sounded harshly. The lights flickered again and then went out altogether, plunging the room into near total darkness. He could hear Jessica moving about, then saw the faint spark as she lit a candle, then used that to light another.

  “I always keep some if these, just in case,” she said, placing the candles in a holder on the small table by the window and using one of them to light a small oil lamp that Mathew had assumed was only decorative.

  The lamplight gave the room an eerie glow that flickered and threw long shadows up the wall. In the half-light her face seemed older and more lined, and Mathew could feel the chill as the heat from the artificial fire died.

  “All this progress and they still can’t keep the electricity on in a storm,” she said absently. “Makes you laugh doesn’t it?” But Mathew wasn’t laughing. He’d rehearsed this scene in his mind a hundred times and never imagined it like this. The old woman opposite him sat down again and began talking. “I bought this place years ago. Mum always liked it here. She said she had happy memories of Devon. I couldn’t afford it originally, then the great economic crash happened, and if you had a little spare cash, and I did at the time, you could pick up a place like this easily. I was lucky; I managed to keep my savings through it all. I suppose it was all at someone’s expense though. It’s away from the cities and all the shootings and crap that goes on there. But the lights won’t stay on. Mind, they don’t stay on in the cities either. Now then. What was I saying?” she stopped lost in thought, gazing absently through Mathew, then suddenly continued.

  “There are things you want to know, and there are things you ought to know. You can leave now, if you want, and never be any wiser, but you might prefer it that way. Do you want me to tell you about my past, and what should have been your future?”

  “More than anything.”

  “Then let me explain,” she said, draining her glass. She poured herself a refill and passed the decanter across. “Have another drink. You may need it.”

  52

  “Deon, about bloody time, what the hell have you been up to?” demanded Philip into the c-pac, as Deon’s image appeared on the ethervision. “You know we’ve been waiting for you to contact us, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I had some problems here, Philip.”

  “What problems? This isn’t what I need to hear at the moment. Have you arranged the shipping?”

  “Yeah, done. I’ve sent you the documents and where you’re to meet the boat crew. It’s all on the c-pac I leant to Mathew. Did the Roamers arrange your transport to Southampton?”

  “No, we had a bit of a problem this end with them, but that’s all taken care of now, and we’re going to get ourselves to the docks, so we should be there tomorrow. What do we do when we get there? When are you getting down here?”

  “Well, I don’t think that I’ll be meeting you, after all. Something a bit critical’s happened here. Umm, I’ve met some people.”

  “Look Deon, I don’t know what you’re doing there, but we’ve had some messages through from you.”

  “What messages?”

  “You know the c-pac that you leant Mathew? Well it’s been connected to yours all the time, so every time you’ve left a note to yourself we’ve heard it here.”

  “Right. So you know exactly what’s going on, yeah?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t exactly say that, no. These two people you’ve met up with; would I be right in saying that they’re the Caroline Atkins and Aaron Conti who were at Fort Burlington with you?”

  “You mean Unit?”

  “Yeah, the commune. The place that was torched where those people died, Deon.”

  “Yeah, except that Aaron was out of the place on a mission to find people in need of help, and Caroline was spared because the Lord saw that she was necessary to His plan.”

  “Ok, I’m sure that’s what it is. How well do you know these people? Do they know anything about us?”

  “Oh they’re fine people, really, I’m certain that you’d like them. They have nothing but good intentions, and they’ve found a position that they need me for, just like they did before.”

  “So they know about us?”

  “Yes, but don’t worry, there’s no problem from them.”

  “Well I really hope so, pal. Did this Caroline woman say how she survived?”

  “I told you, God intervened.”

  “Ok, I know you told me that, but exactly how did God intervene.”

  “She hasn’t told me. But sometimes when I look at her I can see a kind of silver glow around her head, like a halo. She’s been cast for an important role in the world, you know.”

  “Ok, I’ll take your word on this. So you’re staying in London?”

  “Yeah, until I’ve finished what I’m doing.”

  “Which is what?”

  “I don’t know yet. Before I used to trace people and their families, so I expect that I’ll be doing that again.”

  “You remember when you used James’ identity; you changed all his records to fit your profile, right?”

  “Yes, that’s quite easy when you know how. People do it all the time in order to buy new jobs.”

  “Well, can you trace someone across that sort of identity switch?”


  “Yeah, if you’re looking for it. All you do is swap a few records, and that always shows up somewhere.”

  “I thought it must do. Look, I want you to do one thing for me then. This Caroline, I need to know if she’s ever had any other names, ok? Can you find that out?”

  “Well course I can, but why?”

  “’Cos she sounds like someone I used to know and really like, but I want to be sure before I contact her,” Philip lied. He didn’t trust Deon’s acquaintances and wanted to know anything he could about them. It would help him and his story. He added: “Keep it secret though, I’d really like to surprise her.”

  Deon input the information into his c-pac. “Yeah, I’ll do that and let you know as soon as.”

  “Ok. Anything else?”

  “No…well, there was one thing, Philip.”

  “What?”

  “Well, I saw Warwick.”

  ‘What? Did he see you?”

  “Yes, and he said he wanted to help Mathew, but I’m not sure now that he really does.”

  “Deon, you didn’t tell him where we were did you?”

  “Well, I think I might have done.”

  “You might have, or you did?”

  “Well he said Mathew was ill and he’d save him, and he seemed so convincing, because he said he’d look after...”

  “Great, so he’s going to be in Southampton waiting for us. Fucking brilliant.”

  “Well, he might go to Beer first.”

  “Deon, we’re in Beer now. When did this happen?”

  “This morning.”

  “And you’re only letting us know now?”

  “I was confused.”

  “Deon, I’ll call you back later, but you’d better get praying that Lyal’s alright.” Philip switched off the connection and knocked loudly on the door of Rei’s room. She had said that she was going to get some food but she obviously hadn’t come back. He jotted a note on a sliver of paper and slid it under her door, then tried to contact Mathew, but his c-pac was switched off. He left a message and hurried down the rickety staircase and into the street. He looked down towards the sea. A vehicle was already parked there, and it hadn’t been there earlier. Warwick, with his cash and connections could easily have got here in the time he’d had.