by Syd Moore
‘Now you’re pissed off with me for not getting it. I understand. But can we just go back to being normal? I won’t mention it again.’
I wondered briefly if I should go with the prank call idea. It certainly made me feel better. Better than him thinking I was mad.
‘Sorry, John. Something happened on Saturday night but I don’t want to go into it.’
‘Something else? I’m here if you need to talk.’
‘I have to try and work a few things out in my head first.’
‘And you think I’ll think you’re hysterical.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Shit, don’t punish me for something stupid I said when I was pissed.’
‘I’m not. Honestly. I’m just not sure what’s going on and …’ I faltered.
‘You’re under a lot of stress, Sarah. We all are. It’s the end of term and we all need a good rest. I’m sure you’ll be back on form by September. Give yourself a break. Go away. Have some fun.’
I balked at the mention of September. The idea that this might escalate, that I might return to school with the current situation unresolved was terrifying.
‘Oh God.’ I hadn’t meant to say it aloud.
John’s eyes narrowed. ‘Is it something else? I’m getting the sense that you don’t want to talk to me.’
‘You got it, Columbo.’
He ignored my barb and continued. ‘OK, you may not want to talk to me, but how do you feel about talking to my sister? I spoke to her over the weekend. She’s a little left of centre but I mentioned your cockleshell thing and she said she’d heard of that kind of thing happening.’
His sister. ‘Oh yes, the one into “weirdies” and stuff.’ The thought was appealing however. ‘But you said she was in California?’
‘She is. You know the wonders of technology can reach out across the miles. Do you have Skype on your trendy new internet?’
I nodded.
He wrote her handle on a piece of paper. ‘I’ll send her an email this afternoon and let her know you may call. Do it. She won’t think you’re nutsville, which everyone knows you are anyway. Give her a try. Seriously, it might just be worth talking to someone. If not to put the whole thing to rest, at least to let off steam at someone who’s odder than your good self.’
That night I settled Alfie early. It took a while as he was agitated and didn’t want to be on his own but eventually his tired little body won over his restless mind and he fell asleep. and I was able to go downstairs and have a little me-time.
The living room was dark, the windows onto the street were still open and yet hardly any noise drifted in. There was no hum of traffic or doors slamming, only the calm of Monday evening hibernation.
I dug into my pocket and pulled out John’s sister’s details. ‘Put it to rest,’ he had said.
He was right. I wasn’t passive by nature. Well, there was no time like the present.
In the kitchen I set up my laptop, pressed the on button and poured myself a glass of red as the Skype loaded onto my home page.
I took a sip and entered Marie’s details into the contact box.
The woman who popped up seconds later on the video stream had John’s easy eyes, his pronounced chin, which suited him more than her, and his heavily textured voice softened by a slight East Coast twang. She was lean, with a healthy tan, and in her mid-to late thirties.
‘Hi,’ I said.
She grinned at me, her image pixellating slightly as the information whizzed through the modem. ‘Sarah?’
In the smaller video screen to the bottom right of the monitor I could see an image of myself disintegrating into little blocks and reintegrating again.
‘Yes, hi. You’re Marie?’
She nodded, a big, shaggy mane of mahogany hair tumbling about her shoulders as she did so. ‘John said you might phone sometime. I didn’t think it would be so soon. You OK?’
‘You look like John,’ I said, changing the subject. It was odd having a face-to-face conversation with someone you would probably never meet in the flesh.
‘Yes, we’re related.’ She tossed her head back as she laughed. Same gesture as John. I wondered briefly what their parents were like.
I raised my eyebrows and shook my head. ‘Of course. Sorry. This is a bit weird isn’t it?’
She leant closer to the screen as if scrutinizing my image. ‘You mean Skyping or your situation?’
I hadn’t expected her to bring it up so soon. ‘Well, er, both really.’
She grinned again showing good, strong teeth. ‘Not in California, honey, believe me!’ I think she winked but it could have been a time delay on the screen. ‘Do you fancy a cup of chamomile?’ she asked.
‘I think I might have a glass of red if it’s not too early for you?’ I raised my glass to the screen and laughed. She saw it and nodded. ‘Normally I’d join you but it’s not yet noon here, honey. The neighbours would talk.’
There was a lot of John’s comfortable easiness about her, which made me relax more than I’d anticipated.
‘Gimme forty seconds,’ she said, ‘and I’ll be all yours.’
‘OK.’
Marie had a pleasant living room. Behind the empty wicker chair on screen there was a white stucco arch that led out onto what looked to be a wooden deck furnished with tropical plants. The room was full of bright late morning sunlight and crammed with bookshelves and more plants. Pictures on either side of the walls spoke of a love of con temporary art and esoteric objects. I was trying to place one of the paintings when Marie’s torso filled the screen. A porcelain mug bearing a picture of a cat came into view followed by her shoulders and head.
‘Right,’ she took a sip of tea. ‘Fire away. It started with a cockleshell? Am I right?’
I bit my lip, unsure of whether to mention my appointment with Doctor Cook. Marie read the slight pause as hesitation. ‘Hey, honestly you don’t need to tell me everything. I’m just assuming that as you called you needed some advice.’
‘No. It’s not that. It’s just— Oh, never mind …’ and I started at the beginning.
Several minutes later I reached the Saturday night climax. ‘I can’t describe it. I’m pretty sure it was female and human, or had been once upon a time. Long gown, black hair …’ I was speaking quickly, gabbling. ‘But I got this awful feeling of tragedy. You know I’ve felt that before. I’ve been through loss. But this was kind of saturating. Overwhelming. Like drowning. Like the feeling I came back with from the Drowning Pool. That’s what this is about.’
At this point I realized I must have sounded insane as Marie’s eyes widened and her eyebrows rose virtually up into her hairline. She shuddered and moved back momentarily from the webcam.
I stopped. My shoulders were aching with tension so I too sat back into my chair with a small sigh. My breath vaporized in front of me. Instinctively I thought of smoke and reached for my cigarette packet. ‘Oh God. Sorry. This sounds so nuts, I know.’
Marie looked sort of frozen and for a second I thought I’d lost the connection, and then I saw her breathe in. ‘It’s OK,’ she said, with a tremor to her voice that had been absent before. I guessed she wanted to stop and get away from her brother’s mental mate as soon as possible. I cursed myself and took a cigarette from the pack.
‘Marie. I can’t believe I’m telling you all this.’ I paused and pulled on the fag. ‘Perhaps I am ill?’
‘Sarah, it’s OK …’ Marie had leant forward and was looking intently into the screen. Her voice was purposefully gentle but I could make out worry lines streaking across a forehead that had had clearly lost some of its ruddiness.
‘I can tell from your face that you must think I’m crazy. I don’t blame you. I shouldn’t have …’ I shivered involuntarily. The room had grown cold. Very cold.
She broke in. ‘Sarah, listen – I believe you.’
But I wasn’t listening. ‘… Skyped you. Perhaps I am nuts. Saturday night just felt real.’ And then her words sank in.
On the computer her head nodded.
‘You believe me?’
Her face was filling the screen now so it was easy to see her swallow and hesitate.
‘Why?’ I said, fixing onto the whites of her eyes.
She paused and then in a very slow voice she said, ‘Because I can see her. She’s standing behind you.’
Chapter Six
It’s difficult in retrospect to try and describe how I felt at that moment. You always imagine you’re going to behave in a certain way then when bad things happen, you can surprise yourself. I had thought I’d be one to run screaming from the house. Maybe stopping to get Alfie first.
But I didn’t.
My body seemed to react to what Marie was saying before my brain processed the words. I had been about to light the cigarette but as realization dawned, my right hand froze mid-air, gripping the lighter tightly. My left, which had been idling on my lap, clutched the arm of the chair. Across my back and down my arms, goose bumps crawled. I stared back at Marie, utterly petrified.
She was easing herself back into her chair. ‘I’m not getting any sense of antagonism from her, Sarah.’ Her movements were controlled and tense but she smiled. ‘I can see her outline. It’s like she’s wearing an old dress. Victorian? I can’t tell. She keeps fading out. Now she’s like a shadow.’
I kept my eyes firmly on her face and avoided the smaller rectangular image in the lower right-hand corner, the one that showed me in situ. This was weird and getting weirder by the second.
When my voice came it was high. ‘How can you tell all this?’
Marie said carefully, ‘I don’t know. I just do. Can’t you see her?’
Fuck, no. ‘I’m not looking.’
‘I think she wants you to. She’s coming towards you, Sarah.’
My breath was coming quick and fast.
‘I really think you should turn and face her. Be quick. I’m not sure she’s going to hold together much longer.’
I was burning up with fear. ‘I don’t think I can do that.’
‘I think it’s important to try, Sarah,’ she said. ‘This is happening for a reason, right? Please.’
I let out a small sob, took a deep breath, and then slowly forced my eyes down to the screen, only to see the vague black shadow at my shoulder dissolve.
The air came out of me and I turned around. There was nothing in the kitchen but a fly beating its wings against the window. My nose tingled as if thawing out after an icy blast. I sniffed, the room temperature was back to normal, and faced the screen.
Marie had moved closer. ‘She’s gone, right?’
I nodded, unable to speak.
‘Geez. That was … well, that was freaky.’ Marie sat back into her chair and took a sip from her mug. ‘I suggest you have a good glug of that red wine you’ve got there. You look pale.’
‘It’s a shock,’ I said, finding my voice. The wine tasted bitter, of hawthorns and mud, but I drank it down anyway.
‘OK?’
‘Better.’
Marie cradled her tea. After a few moments she spoke. ‘Has anything like this happened to you before?’
I shook my head. ‘Never. There was a time after my husband’s death when I really wanted something to happen, but it never did.’ I took another gulp as a thought hit me. ‘Oh God. Do you think that’s where this has come from? Have I conjured this up because I want Josh back?’
But Marie spoke firmly. ‘No, no way. I think this has more to do with your present circumstances.’ Her eyes held my gaze. ‘Do you ever sense your husband around you?’
I thought for a moment then replied sadly. ‘No.’ I was going to say more but it seemed pointless. The question could be answered with a simple word. Wherever Josh was, he wasn’t here in Leigh with me and Alfie. This I knew with a painful certainty.
Marie nodded then frowned. ‘Any idea why a cockleshell? Or a pine cone?’
I hadn’t thought about it. ‘We’re by the sea. Have you been to Leigh?’
‘Many moons ago. Is there a cockle industry?’
‘It’s a working fishing town. Down in the Old Town there’s a lane full of cockle sheds. Part of the beach outside of the Crooked Billet pub is completely made from the shells.’
‘So our visitor may be trying to let us know there’s a connection with that area. And the pine cone? Are there pine trees anywhere down there?’
The main part of the Old Town comprised small fishermen’s cottages, cobbled streets, pubs, cafés and boatyards. There was scarcely any vegetation down there at all. ‘No. I don’t think so.’
‘Hmm. Pine cones. The cedar is the tree of life. Did you know that? It’s bound to be a symbolic gesture. We just have to work out what it represents,’ Marie ruminated. I took another sip of wine. She cleared her voice. ‘Do you want to know what I think?’
I wasn’t sure I did at that point but I answered her yes.
She looked up away from the screen, gathering her thoughts. ‘She’s disturbed, this being.’ She took a moment then continued. ‘I think that she’s here because of you.’
At this I balked. ‘Hey, I haven’t invited her in. I didn’t do anything to wish this on myself or my child! Don’t say that.’
Marie held a hand up. ‘Not knowingly you haven’t, but sometimes when manifestations occur it can be the slightest thing that activates them: a change in hormone levels, puberty in adolescents, arguments. Have you had any work done on the house recently? Held a séance?’
I shook my head vigorously. ‘No, no. None of those things. And I wouldn’t meddle with the occult. That’s not my bag.’
Marie finished her tea and put her mug on the desk. ‘Well, she’s after something, Sarah, and whatever it is, it’s connected to you.’
I poured myself another glass of wine and considered it. ‘Is it possible that I’m imagining this? That maybe there is something going on with my brain and you’re picking it up? Like a shared delusion? Could I be projecting this?’
Her eyes softened and despite the distance her sympathy touched me. ‘Anything is possible, honey. I think you should go back to the doc and tell him what’s been going on. Carefully, though. Even if this thing is a symptom, it’s symbolizing something. You need to find out what and understand it. You know, I have friends who come to me when they’re sick. They want me to tell them not to heed the recommendations of their doctors and to give them herbs and chants that can cure them instead. My advice to them is the same to you – do everything – mix the conventional with the unconventional. It’s all there for a reason. And whatever’s going on with you, it’s there for a reason too.’
‘OK, I’ll make an appointment. But what do you suggest I do about …’ I tried to find the right word, ‘… the manifestation?’
Marie cocked her head. ‘Well, if you want, we could try it again? See if she comes through? Then you could ask her what she wants.’
I shuddered violently and took another gulp of wine. It wasn’t what I wanted. But nor did the alternative appeal – waiting around for something else to happen.
Marie coughed. ‘I’ve got to work tomorrow and Wednesday but I could dial in on Thursday?’
That sounded far enough away for me to acquire a backbone so I agreed.
‘But email me if you need to before.’
I told her I would.
‘Oh yes, one more thing,’ she said, reaching for her mouse to terminate the session. ‘Imagine yourself and your son in brilliant and vivid spheres of blue – once in the morning and once in the evening. That’ll protect you. Not that I think she’s harmful. But it might make you feel more secure, yeah?’
I nodded then sat there for twenty minutes after she signed off doing just that. Then, when I could not concentrate any more, I took my wine and sat outside on the deck. I hadn’t been out there since Saturday night and I was jumpy. But the night was balmy and the wine was calming my pulse.
Things were happening.
I couldn’t escape that.
I didn’t know it then but I was taking my first step of the journey.
I had no idea just how much it would change everything.
Chapter Seven
As it was, on the Thursday, nothing happened. I psyched myself up, visualizing blue spheres at every conscious moment, but after an hour of talking and waiting and even a couple of jokes, Marie called it a day. Under her eyes were puffy bags. Her job obviously wore her out. I hadn’t asked her what it was she did. It seemed to be an intrusion – our relationship wasn’t conventional. It was another layer in this weird surreal world in which I’d found myself and in which she now found herself, too. Sure, she’d explained how she’d got into this stuff (a chance meeting with some kind of East Coast guru, followed up by workshops, crystals and then a channelling group), but I didn’t probe further. I had told her what I believed were the necessary details from my life. Nothing more, nothing less. Not because I didn’t like her or trust her. I did. But because it seemed irrelevant to my present situation. And at the back of my mind I had a strong sense that we were being watched.
Nevertheless on Thursday Marie appeared relieved the ‘entity’, as she called it, hadn’t materialized.
Cradling the same cat mug she’d drunk from on Monday she shrugged. ‘Most mediums I’ve talked to say time operates entirely differently on the spirit plane. You can’t force these things and I would strongly advise that you don’t. In my somewhat limited experience invocations, séances, Ouija boards and such tend to attract rather the wrong type of entity. I’m presuming here that you don’t want more turning up at your house.’
