He picked one up and started reading it. His brain was crammed with mythology and he was growing bored of books on psychic powers. He’d practiced all of what they said but nothing worked. So the book he picked up was a novel he’d been meaning to get around to: Carrie by Stephen King. Yeah, it was about a girl with a psychic gift, telekinesis, but that wasn’t why he chose it. At least, not the only reason he picked it. Concentration wasn’t on his side; he’d read almost half of the book in one sitting but failed to grasp much of the story.
What’s the matter with me? He was happy but his mind seemed to want to be somewhere else.
It was getting late. Feeling stupid about reading the book in some kind of zombie trance, he had a snack of food and then went to bed.
Sleep didn’t come. His mind squirmed about, active; he felt a strong need to tell someone about the premonition. But who could he tell?
Fin.
He was Nick’s best friend. They didn’t see each other much nowadays, but he was sure that Fin would spare some time for him. Fin’s full name was actually Fintan Evergreen. Ha! But he went by Fin.
Nick could also tell Alex Campbell, but there would always be that divide between them. They were friends but no longer best friends. He couldn’t trust Alex. At least not the way he trusted Fin.
It took a while to load the computer. He signed into his Facebook profile. He was embarrassed to see that there were ‘Happy birthday’ comments at the top of his profile, even though his birthday was nine months ago. Most comments were from people he didn’t even know.
There were no other recent notifications apart from ‘game requests’ and event invites from yet more people he wasn’t familiar with.
I’m so popular it hurts, he thought, then had to laugh at himself.
He clicked on Messages, New Message and typed:
Hey Fin, how are you?
I haven’t seen you in ages. I miss you! Did you want to come over sometime soon and just hang out?
Watch some crappy films and play Xbox like we used to? We can order some junk food and stuff and talk about old times?
I hope you’re doing well.
A click on send, and that was that. Sleep came easier with the new prospect of having someone to share his secret with.
*
Deirdre’s was a café in Amiton. It was a quiet place because it was out of the way, down a small street with a couple of barbers and gift shops. It was the kind of place that you could only find if you already knew it was there.
Mora put Nick’s lunch break at the same time as hers on Friday, so they went to Deirdre’s together. She left Janet Morgan in charge of the store for the hour with the help of Michael and another colleague, Alan.
‘So, Nicolas, spill the beans,’ she said, after she ordered them both cheese and tomato toasties and a pot of tea.
He was taken back; what was she expecting?
‘Spill the beans on what?’
‘You’ve been grinning all week… it’s not like you.’
‘Ha, thanks Mora. I didn’t realise that I’m usually such a grump.’
‘No, you’re not a grump, but it’s easy to see that you’re happier than usual,’ she said, ‘your whole vibe is different.’
What does that even mean? He hadn’t realised he was giving off a vibe; I better stay alert and try not to revert back to the grump-vibe. When he didn’t reply, Mora continued with her assault.
‘It’s a woman isn’t it?’ she asked.
‘Oh, Mora, not you as well? Janet’s been bugging me all week, saying I need a woman, blah, blah, blah.’
‘I’m not saying that, I’m just asking.’ she laughed at his over-the-top reaction. Their order was brought to the table by a woman with curly auburn hair.
Deirdre’s, like the rest of Amiton, was decorated for Halloween.
A hanging skeleton was at the window, posed to greet customers, and a row of ominous pumpkin-faces were huddled below. Creeping up the walls were black vines, and splatted in the corners of the ceiling were streaked white cobwebs. The tables were draped with transparent cloth, each torn and decadent.
It was warm inside, with an intermittent draft from customers entering or leaving.
Mora didn’t ask questions while they ate but she regularly smiled at Nick and looked at him with suspicious green eyes, as if to say, ‘What are you like, eh?’
After they’d eaten their toasties, they sipped tea and continued the conversation.
‘I know what it is. You’ve been different since that Friday. When you were late to work after that car chase.’ she said, acting like a light bulb flicked on over her head. ‘You like the drama don’t you? A bit of action! You young ones love it.’ she didn’t just laugh at her own conclusion; she was in stitches like it was the funniest thing she could have said.
Her dead-looking yellowy-white complexion even turned red for a moment in her fits of laughter. She’d given him an easy way out of the interrogation at least, and he took it.
‘You caught me out. It was exciting. The car almost hit me. I’ve never felt a rush like that before.’ he said.
‘You’re one of them adrenaline junkies; next you’ll be skydiving.’ she calmed down and coughed away the last of her giggles.
Nick thought about it. The incident hadn’t affected him in that way because it was like the second time he was seeing it. He knew he had to act, and he supposed adrenaline must have coursed through his body to get him up the steps in time, but when he actually reached the top, it all happened so quickly. He felt no excitement from the action itself. He was proud of himself for saving the woman, but the real excitement was in knowing that he’d had a vision.
If it had been a normal incident, with no vision involved, would he have come away from it feeling indifferent and numb inside? Is that how empty my life was before I had the premonition?
‘Nicolas,’ Mora said, ‘more of our stock has gone missing this week. Have you noticed anything?’
‘No, have you asked everyone else to keep an eye out too?’ he felt disbelief creep up inside of him, ‘God, it annoys me the way people think they can just steal.’ his shoulders tensed, aggravated. He was raised to respect other people and their belongings; the thought of thieving repelled his senses.
‘Yes, I’ve asked everyone to keep watch. You make me laugh, Nicolas, you always curse in God’s name!’ she remarked with a playful shake of her head.
It was true; he regularly used God’s name in vain, but if he was around other people and he knew it offended them then he wouldn’t do it. He’d hate to upset someone. He wasn’t religious but somewhere along the line he’d acquired the habit of misusing His name.
‘Sorry, it’s just a habit.’ he shrugged.
‘I don’t mind, not really. He’s not my god.’ she laughed. Nick liked that Mora rarely mentioned her religious or spiritual beliefs. She wasn’t like Janet who often slipped in praise to the Goddess mid-conversation or blabbed about the rituals and spells she performed. Mora seemed humble in her faith; Nick admired that.
He narrowed back down to the more pressing matter, ‘So now everyone knows that stock is going missing then?’
‘Yes, and I trust all of you, of course, but we have to be more careful when tagging valuable items.’ she gave a drained smile.
‘What’s been stolen?’
‘Some of our jewellery this time. I’m sure of it.’
He tried to think whose week it was to check the security tags in the jewellery section. Mora assigned each staff an area of the store to check for security tags every week then rotated turns, but because they all knew each other well, they swapped areas and helped out as they pleased.
‘Whose turn was it to tag-check that section?’ he asked.
‘Michael’s, I think.’
‘What about the other week, when the tarot cards were stolen?’
‘That was Alan’s section that week.’
‘Do you think it could be one of us stealing?’ He regretted asking a
lready, but continued anyway, ‘De-tagging items on purpose for our friends to steal or something? Some of our items sell for a lot of money don’t they? Like the geodes. Well, most of it’s expensive because of the tourist factor and that makes it easy to sell too, and if someone is stealing and selling it often enough then that’s a nice bonus they are giving themselves.’
Mora shifted in her chair and squeezed her eyes into a frown, ‘No, no, no… Nicolas, it couldn’t be that. I know all of you too well. I’d never suspect any of you. We simply need to double-check our security tags. There are opportunists out there.’
‘Yeah,’ Nick nodded, ‘I only suggested it because I knew you would never think that of us. And anyway, people buy de-tagging equipment online these days.’
‘Bloody thieves.’ she giggled.
She picked up a newspaper from the unoccupied table next to her. She shook her head and frowned at the page she was on. ‘These poor parents, their kid went missing a couple of years ago and they are still looking for answers. Do you remember?’
‘What was the girl’s name?
‘Katie Baker.’
‘Yeah, I remember hearing about it.’ In fact, there’d been a similar case on Lansin Island about ten years before. A young boy had disappeared. Nick remembered that one because it was a couple of years before his mum vanished. ‘So she hasn’t been found yet then?’ he asked.
‘No. You’d think that with all the supposed psychics on this island, at least some one would be able to find something out! It’s not exactly a massive island.’ she exclaimed.
‘She could have been taken off the island, or who knows what?’ he didn’t want to think about it.
‘You know, Nicolas, there have been a few cases of children disappearing on this island. I’m almost fifty now but I remember at least three or four cases. Maybe the island is really a giant beast that eats people up?’ she laughed, but unfortunately this was one of the very few times that she didn’t think before she spoke.
Nick tried to laugh at her joke but it came out miserable. Mora must have realised the parallels between the story of the missing child and the disappearance of Nick’s mum.
‘Oh… Nicolas. I’m sorry, I didn’t think.’ she said.
‘It’s okay, Mora. I don’t think my mum’s dead anyway. I think she just wanted a different life. She took out a few thousand pounds before she disappeared. It’s pretty obvious she just wanted to get away from my dad… and my brothers and I.’ he hadn’t spoken to anyone but Caroline about it for a few years now; it was one of them subjects you just didn’t bring up unless someone directly asked.
‘Well, I hope you don’t mind me saying… but she’s missing out. If you were my son, I wouldn’t ever think of up-and-leaving like that.’
Tears could have formed in his eyes, but he graciously let himself feel good instead. Mora didn’t have a partner or children, so Creaky Crystals and the staff were probably all the family she had.
Nick said, ‘Thanks, that’s a nice thing to say.’
Mora smiled at him. They had time for another cup of tea each before they returned to work.
Nick couldn’t help but think about Katie Baker’s parents. He felt sorry for them; he knew what it felt like to be left in the dark like that, not knowing if someone you cared about was alive or not. But he couldn’t know what it felt like for a parent to lose their child.
When he returned home, he eagerly checked his Facebook messages. Fin had replied:
Alright buddy? I’m great man.
I’m so sorry mate but I’m mega busy at the moment. I’ve got a new contract in London. I’ll be travelling there a lot over the next few weeks.
I’m earning some proper money now! If I’ve got time I’ll pop into that crystal place you work at and see you or something?
Anyway, I thought you had my number. Text me next time.
See you when I see you mate.
At the bottom of the message, Fin provided his mobile number in case Nick had lost it, which he had (along with his previous mobile phone when he placed it on a shop counter then forgot to pick it up when he left the store).
Fintan’s reply wasn’t what he’d hoped for. He didn’t blame his friend; he was happy for him. Maybe a tad jealous too, but all he wanted was to tell someone about the premonition; someone he could trust.
Oh, well.
Before retiring to bed, he decided to do something he’d never done before: say a prayer.
He didn’t know who he was praying to or how to start, so he sat up in bed, modestly, and said a prayer for Mr and Mrs Baker, wishing them happiness, and for the missing girl, Katie Baker, asking for her safe return, even though it’d been two years now since she vanished.
Then he was cold and in pain.
*
Grit pressed into his face. Spit hocked out of his mouth. Sudden pain hit his back, repeatedly, it dug into him. He curled up and covered his head to protect it from the blows.
He looked down at his stomach and saw a foot kick into it. He made a puking sound and groaned in agony.
‘Stop!’ a woman screamed.
The kicks went on and he tried desperately to squeeze into a ball shape to defend himself. Hard shoes connected with his shins, back and arms. He didn’t dare to look up and see the attackers; they would only kick his face if he did.
He writhed on the bitter ground and closed his eyes, wishing for it to stop. He went to shout something.
*
‘Help!’ his body convulsed, he sat up in his bed.
He opened his eyes and looked down at his hands that were in a prayer pose. Oh, crap. Shaking his head, he hurried out of bed and to the kitchen. The floor was like ice on his bare feet, so he shuffled in an attempt to warm them. He ran some water from the tap into a glass and gulped down the liquid.
Why would anyone want to beat me up? It was so vivid. Another vision? He brought up a hand to rest his forehead against the palm; his fingers tangled in his fringe.
When he was at school, he’d gotten into occasional scraps; most boys scuffled with other kids at some point during school. But he’d never brawled with anyone as an adult. So why did he see himself being kicked repeatedly?
When he returned to bed, he struggled to relax. So that’s what I get for praying: a vision of me getting beaten up? Or maybe even killed if they continued! He closed his eyes, decided never to pray again and waited for sleep.
Chapter 6
Juliet woke on Wednesday. She inhaled deeply and thought, No nonsense today. She jumped out of bed and sped about her morning routine.
With scarcely any customers due to Halloween approaching and everyone celebrating in Amiton, Chanton Hillview café was quiet. It allowed freedom for Juliet to move furniture around and visualise the intended new décor.
She’d been considering creating a feature wall with striking wallpaper, and in her mind it looked good, but when she stood and looked at her café… she couldn’t picture it anymore.
The café already had its feature: an entire glass wall that looked out at the view of the hills. It was the whole selling point of the Chanton Hillview. It was in the name. But something had to change; this décor was a mistake, like the previous design was too.
An idea struck her. She would strip the place down. Make it as minimal as possible; let nothing unnecessarily distract customers from the view. The wall art, the ornaments and even the patterned furniture all conflicted too much.
She couldn’t see how she’d never realised it before. It was like going to the cinema with a date, trying to appreciate the film but becoming distracted by how attractive your date is and how much you want to hold their hand: one of the views had to suffer and in turn lessen the overall experience. You end up leaving the cinema unable to even recall the plot of the film.
From now on she didn’t want anyone coming to Chanton Hillview and being anything less than mesmerized by the view.
Simple but stylish furniture, modest colours, contemporary and unobtrusive wal
l art (if any), and minimum ornaments. Sometimes less was better.
In her office, she finalised the plans and called Roy in to speak with her. Roy, smartly groomed as always, appeared in the doorway, ‘Yes, Juliet?’
‘The café will be closed on Monday. It’s Halloween so everyone will be in Amiton. It’s not worth staying open.’
‘Okay.’
‘But I’d like you to come in that day. I’ll give you money for materials and if you can, I’d like you to start decorating the café.’ she said, with a sly smile.
‘We are redecorating again?’ he asked excitedly.
‘Yes, I’m bored of it, it’s tacky. I want to modernise it. Make it simple, sleek and stylish. I want the view of the hills to truly be the focal point that it should be.’
‘I like that idea.’ he nodded.
‘I’ve picked the furniture I want; I just need you to purchase it. If anybody wants what we have now, take it. It will only go to the skip otherwise. All wall art is to go, everything is to go. Ashleigh and Sandra can take whatever they want, and they can come in to help you too. In fact, we will close for the entire week and anything you feel uncomfortable doing, just call a handy man or whatever. I’m leaving you in charge, Roy. Here’s how I want it to look.’
She went over all of her ideas with Roy, showing him sketches of a new layout. When she was satisfied that he had the correct picture in his mind, she smiled, and enjoyed a sense of relief.
‘What’s the budget?’ asked Roy.
‘Don’t worry about that. I’ll leave you with enough to buy the materials and extras and to pay labourers if you need them.’
She didn’t care about the money; Chanton Hillview was her hobby, her passion.
Roy smiled and rubbed his hands together, and Juliet laughed in amusement. He was a big man, round faced, and had a massive smile. Originally from Zimbabwe, his surname was Dube but Juliet had a feeling that his first name might not have been Roy. Maybe it was, but she didn’t know enough about Zimbabwean names to pass judgement.
A Death Displaced Page 6
