The Whispers of the Sprite (The Whispers Series #1)

by Joanna Mazurkiewicz

  He scowls at me wrinkling his forehead with effort.

  ‘It’s not about you Ania. I just have to take care of a few things,’ he presses, but I just shake my head.

  ‘Of course it’s about me!’ I roar, ‘You got what you wanted and now you are just going to leave. I can’t believe that I was so stupid!’

  He narrows his blue eyes and exhales sharply.

  ‘You need to calm down.’

  ‘I am not going to calm down. Get the hell out of here!’

  This is it, I am not controlling myself any more, he shoots me an angry look and then he is gone.

  I stare at the empty space wondering what I’ve just done. I didn’t mean to behave like a lunatic. I throw myself on the bed and start crying like a little child. My behaviour was unacceptable. Obviously he had to leave but he could at least explain where he was going. I hate that I acted so impulsively stupid.

  I cry until exhaustion takes over and I finally fall asleep. A few hours later when I wake up, nothing seems to make sense. I gave him my heart and he leaves me after sleeping with me. I try to explain to myself that he doesn't follow the same rules as humans.

  This situation is oddly similar to the days after I slept with George.

  In the morning, I take a shower, wondering if I could jump into a time machine and go back to the night when I was attacked so everything would stay the same and the pain in my heart could fade away. Am I behaving like this because I have feelings for him? It’s too early to talk about love. I don’t know anything about him beside the fact that he isn’t a human. This isn’t normal, but I have to get on with life and forget that I ever believed that I could have a future with him.

  Days and nights are passing by and I am learning to live without the only man who can make me happy. It’s a week before Christmas and although I still haven’t bought Mum anything, I decide not to risk shopping on Oxford Street. Crowds of people are probably out looking for the last minute presents for relatives and I would need a miracle to get to the till. I can't concentrate on my revision as my brain is filled with unrealistic thoughts about Gabriel; I am convinced that he is with Rose and he’s lied about going away.

  A few days before Christmas, I can no longer stand being stuck in my house and decide I have to get out for some fresh air. I was supposed to meet a few of my friends from school but every time I tried to arrange meeting, they were preoccupied, so in the end I give up. It’s my own fault that none of my friends are making much of an effort; I haven’t kept in close contact with any of them since I moved to Swansea. I only have myself to blame.

  As I leave the house, I plan on getting some food in one of my favourite restaurants where I used to work. Mum is working her last shift before the Christmas break so I decide to visit an old haunt and get myself out of this depressive mood about Gabriel.

  It’s the middle of the late afternoon and the streets are packed with drunken people celebrating the festive season. I pass a few Sprites on the way, but they only remind me of the one who isn't with me. Luckily for me, the restaurant isn’t very busy and I am able to read my favourite book and order something special. The owner, Mario, is Spanish and he knows me well from when I used to work here whilst in school. Unfortunately he isn’t working today.

  ‘Ania, what a surprise.’

  I turn around and I see Richard, who is at the bar.

  ‘Hi Richard. How are you?’ I say, surprised to see him in here. Richard is the last person that I would expect to meet today, especially in London; but then I remember that told me that he is from Kingsway when Amy had introduced us.

  ‘What are you drinking?’ he asks. I bite my lip, wondering if taking him up on his drink offer. I would have to stay with him; I was hoping for a quiet drink and some food by myself. I wanted a date with my book, not with the boyfriend of my housemate.

  ‘Southern Comfort and Coke please,’ I answer, looking around to see where I could get a table by myself.

  ‘Are you here alone?’ he asks, passing me a glass of my favourite drink.

  'Yes, just me and my book,' I show him the book in my bag, insinuating that I am not in the mood for company.

  ‘I’ve got a table in the corner – go sit down and I’ll order some food,’ he says, completely ignoring my hint at wanting to be alone. I don't want to be rude so I go to the table and take a seat; he comes over with his pint of beer. I am slowly regretting that I went out now; Richard sits down by me, looking really pleased with himself.

  ‘I love this place; I come here all the time.’

  ‘Really? I haven’t seen you here before,’ I respond, trying to make the conversation casual.

  ‘That's strange; I am a regular customer. Mario knows me well,’ he says, looking surprised. ‘So you live around here?’

  ‘Yes, not far from here. I used to work here years ago on weekends and I would definitely have remembered you,’ I explain, sipping my Southern Comfort.

  ‘Maybe our roads were meant to cross in Swansea.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘So tell me more about yourself. I’m interested to find out more about Russia,’ he says. His eyes are fixed on mine, waiting for my answer. My stomach churns.

  ‘Well, we moved here a few years ago. I liked living in Russia and I still have a lot of friends there. The winters are terrible but sometimes I wish I could still be there.’

  ‘So why did you decide to move here?’ he asks. The waiter comes over and places two plates down on the table. Chilli con carne. How did Richard know to order this for me?’

  ‘Thanks. How did you know I like this dish?’ I ask, a little annoyed that he had just decided to order the food for me.

  ‘Magic,’ he chuckles and continues, ‘So why did you decide to move to this gloomy and miserable country?’

  ‘My mother got a job in the hospital so she decided to move here. She said that we could have a better life here,’ I respond and then tuck into my food. It tastes exactly as I remembered. Richard ploughs on with his probing questions.

  ‘Did you want to move to the UK? What about your father, didn't he mind?’

  I keep silent for a while, trying to understand why he wants to know so much about me. Anyway, I already mentioned my Father when I spoke to him in Swansea.

  ‘It was my mother’s decision, so I just followed. My father had nothing to say because he wasn't there. I told you before, I’ve never met him,’ I answer, trying to remain calm. I change the subject. ‘Are you not seeing Amy during the Christmas break? I thought she was coming over?’

  ‘No, she feels a bit overwhelmed with her family back home. I don't think we’ll see each other until January now,’ he sounds slightly disappointed. I wonder where exactly this conversation is going. I feel like he is only partially hearing what I am saying and focusing only on the sentences that he wants to hear.

  ‘Oh right,’ I mumble.

  The restaurant is getting busier and a few Sprites were wandering around but now they have gone as the room begins to fill with people. We are sitting by the window and I see that it is getting dark. My Mother will be home soon. I don't like Richard’s company right now, especially after he has had a few more drinks.

  ‘So are you seeing anyone at the moment?’ he continues with his interrogation, and I am little tired of him being overly curious. This whole conversation is making me uncomfortable and I look at my phone to check the time.

  ‘Sorry Rich, but I have to get going. My Mother is going to be home soon and I’ve got to help her with the cooking.’

  I don't wait for his response and walk to the bar to settle the bill, but the waiter says that the bill was already taken care of. I leave the restaurant quickly, avoiding looking at Richard. I know it seems rude leaving him alone after he paid for my meal but his questions were getting too personal. As I walk home, I replay the conversation back in my head, and the whole evening seems too surreal; he was taking too much of an interest in my life. I keep looking behind, wondering if he would follow me home
but he’s nowhere to be seen. When I get to bed in that night; I cry and wonder if I will ever see Gabriel again. I feel so lonely knowing that he won’t be waking me up in the middle of the night. Finally a few hours later I fall asleep, emotionally exhausted.

  I end up spending Christmas Day in bed, eating crisps and watching TV. Celebrating alone makes me more depressed, Gabriel isn't around and my phone is silent. Mum's annual leave won’t start until tomorrow now with her having to work an extra day. I will be staying in London to spend this year’s festive period with Mum's new man and Gosia. My decision to stay in the UK this year was down to my revision being far more important than anything else, and I wouldn't want to leave with the pending exams looming.

  I wonder if I should call Amy and mention my meeting with Richard. I found his personal questions intimidating but I change my mind. Instead, I lay in bed and struggle to find the motivation to get up. My conscious is telling me that I am wasting my energy thinking about a man that I can't have; time seems surreal when I am not with him and I’ve been having sleepless nights, wondering if I could change everything that's happened between us.

  My University books keep distracting me from my own unreal thoughts and my acting skills improve when I am around Mum; she’s too preoccupied with Dmitry to notice my heartache anyway, but I can’t hide my true emotions when by myself. It's too early to throw myself into the Christmas preparation; our Christmas won't start till the seventh of January, thirteen days after everyone else has celebrated theirs.

  I can't wait to see Gosia; we get to spend a few days together before she has to be back in London. We haven't seen each other for over five months and will have lots to catch up on. Amy phones me after Christmas Day and tells me about her time back at her parents; she hasn't seen Richard for a while and I can't bring myself to tell her anything about my meeting with him recently. It would break my heart to see Amy hurt, so I decide to keep quiet about my suspicions about him. When I mention that we didn't do anything special on Christmas Day, she just didn’t understand it and can't figure out that I have to wait until the seventh for all the presents and delicious food.

  10

  On New Year's Eve, Dmitry takes us to Central London to see the fireworks display. I hardly notice any Sprites as we struggle to get through the crowds of people. On the seventh of January our kitchen looks like a storm went through it, but everything seems to be ready. I have a lot to reflect on; my attack on the beach back in Swansea changed me both physically and mentally, yet I survived. The police seem to be stuck with their investigation about what happened; I had a phone call around a month ago informing me that they still don't know who attacked me, and deep down I don’t think the mystery will ever be solved

  Despite everything that happened between Gabriel and me, I am glad that I am the only human that was given a chance to enjoy time with him. Russian Christmases are very different from the Western celebrations; Mum is very much the traditionalist and for the ‘holy supper’ she had prepared twelve traditional Russian dishes, which symbolise the twelve apostles. The past few days in the kitchen have been hectic but it’s helped to keep me busy from thinking about Gabriel; it's been almost three weeks since he disappeared from my life and I am slowly convincing myself that he won't be back.

  After the bank holiday we are able to get all the Christmas decorations at half-price, so I take advantage of all the sales. Browsing the streets of London, I notice a new Sprite that appears to be following me; I am certain that Gabriel made sure that someone is looking after me. The new Sprite is slightly shorter than me; he has long silver hair and dark eyes. I feel abandoned by my lover, like an unwanted toy, but I am with Mum so I have to hide how upset I am. I try to calm myself by convincing myself that Gabriel never existed. By the afternoon, everything is almost ready. Around 6pm, I open the front door to the first guest. I smile widely for the first time in weeks as I see Gosia standing on my front door.

  ‘Hello, stranger,’ she says, giving me a tight hug. Her cheeks are cold against mine and I move aside to let her into the warm house.

  ‘I am so glad you are here,’ I say. We walk into the living room while Mum is still busy in the kitchen; she hears Gosia’s voice and shouts something in Polish to her from the kitchen; Mum knows only a little Polish. I roll my eyes, not knowing what she said but Gosia is laughing. I take her to my room, leaving Mum with the last of the preparations. She is too anxious and I don't want to be in the kitchen while she is stressed.

  ‘How are you? It's been so long,’ says Gosia, looking around my room. She looks good with her blue glasses and longer hair.

  ‘I’m great, but I’ve been bored in London; no one has had time to meet up with me,’ I complain.

  ‘I can’t believe what happened in Swansea,’ she says, going to the subject that I was hoping to avoid.

  ‘That was ages ago. I can’t even remember it.’

  ‘Did the police find out who attacked you?’

  ‘No, there are no witnesses and they called recently to say that they still hadn’t found the person responsible. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about that. Tell me, how are you doing?’

  ‘Great actually, I had a fabulous time in Poland.’

  She looks happy and relaxed. She goes on to talk about her course – she is almost finished. We had met in London while we were both working in the Spanish restaurant and had quickly become friends. A year later, Gosia had started her P.H.D course and even though her strong character often overwhelms me, I’ve missed her smart mouth while I’ve been in Swansea.

  ‘How is your research going?’

  ‘Smoothly. I have to admit that I have been partying recently but at the same time I never have a day off as my Ph.D. takes a lot of my time,’ she says, rolling her eyes. ‘What about you? Studying in Wales and living alone without Mummy, how is that? Anyone special filled the place in your heart yet?’ I knew that this question would pop up sooner or later and I can't hide anything from her; she knows me so well. I smile and try to think about the best way to explain what I am going though. I hesitate for a moment.

  ‘Well, my housemate Amy has tried to hook me up with a few people, but there isn't anyone there yet that I could hold on to,’ I say, pursing my lips.

  Her eyes are inquisitive still, searching deeper for an answer but I remain calm. I know that I can't tell her the truth; she wouldn't believe me anyway, she is an academic. Sprites exist only in my imagination, so I am not even going to try.

  ‘Oh, I am sure you won't be single for long; when you come to visit me, you will see what kind of company I am involved with. I am sure I would have more fun in Wales.’

  She is trying to tell me that I should enjoy what I have while I can. Mum enters my room, looking even more stressed out than before.

  ‘Can you go and get the door? I still have a few things to do.’

  We walk back downstairs; I open the door to a smiling Dmitry, he looks pleased to see me and I smile openly at him, knowing his presence will calm Mum down.

  ‘How are you, Ania?’ he asks, coming into the living room.

  ‘Fine, thanks, and how are you?’ I answer.

  After his assurance that he is fine, I explain that Mum is in the kitchen serving up dinner. I also introduce him to Gosia. While Mum and Dmitry are chatting in the kitchen, I mention the story behind my Mother's new romance to Gosia as we finish laying the table. I am starving but refrain from picking at the food on the table. I am finally able to relax and stop the daunting thoughts about Gabriel. Normally, our Christmas feast would start when the first star appears in the dark navy sky, but we haven't followed that tradition for a while. A few minutes after Dmitry's appearance we sit down, the table heaving with thirteen different dishes. Gosia and Dmitry seem to be impressed with the amount of food we have.

  For the first time in a long time I feel relaxed, forgetting about paranormal creatures. Mum starts a prayer in Russian and after that we tuck into the amazing feast. Dmitry tries a bit of everything, adm
itting that he has missed the tradition and the atmosphere of the orthodox Christmas. He had always been invited to join his friends in the traditional English Christmas meal, which he enjoyed, but British dishes are not the same.

  An hour later I can't move; the amount of food that I have eaten is overwhelming. We relax on the sofa, drinking coffee and exchanging presents while Mum serves traditional Russian biscuits. A few hours later Mum looks tired but happy and I start cleaning up the table with Gosia.

  ‘Are you sure you're OK?’ asks Gosia, while I start washing up the dishes.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I reply, smiling, but I am not a very good liar; pretending in front of my Mother is easy but Gosia is one of my best friends and I can't hide anything from her.

  ‘You have been very reserved this evening, not really yourself.’