His death.
In Sydney.
Her fury swung back on itself and now launched a full-throttled attack on Evan. ‘What did you see in that woman?’
The bowling pins smacked against the walls in the hallway, eliciting triumphant squeals.
‘Mum, did you see that?!’ Jasper shouted, running in, his delighted smile and shiny eyes drawing her attention.
‘I heard it! What a great shot,’ she said, holding up her hand for a high five. He jumped up and smacked it hard.
Olly came running in holding the yellow ball. ‘Jasper, back up, back up!’ he complained. He wasn’t yet coordinated enough to stand up the pins without overbalancing them and needed Jasper to do it. ‘My turn!’
Jasper groaned and let his head fall back dramatically. ‘Oh, all right,’ he said, with a long sigh. ‘Come on, Mum.’ He took her hand and pulled her out into the hallway.
Krystal watched as Jasper set up the pins and Olly tried to help but only got in the way and knocked them over, and Jasper growled at him and told him to stay back. She couldn’t believe where the years had gone. Her anger at Evan turned around again and came back as desperate, aching grief. ‘You’ve missed so much,’ she whispered to him. And it was only a tiny fraction of all he would miss. If she could just turn back time, if she could just have him back, she’d forgive him. They’d work through it. They’d sort out whatever had gone wrong that she didn’t even know about and they would make it all better.
Please come home.
She glanced at the front door, knowing it was insane and impossible but still fantasising that he might suddenly open it and walk through, tired and weary from his long night shift but still happy to see them.
But he wasn’t talking to her. Not back then, keeping his very large secret tucked away from sight, and not now. Now, he was talking to Gabby. For as long as she’d known Evan, there’d been a woman between them. First, Cordelia-Aurora. Then the mistress. Now Gabby.
Talk to me, Evan. For god’s sake, talk to me.
21
Gabby woke. She was hot and sweaty, the light in her room an eerie blue. She couldn’t tell what time it was. Silence gathered close around her, tacky against her skin, pressing her into the mattress. She strained her ears to listen for something that would either indicate what had woken her or give her some sense of the time. But the silence persisted, everything too quiet, as though she’d stepped through a doorway into another world.
She tried to lift her hand to wipe at her eyes, but her limbs were heavy and unmoving.
All she could do was lie there, resigned to her immobility. Listening. Waiting.
For him.
He was here, just out of reach, somewhere behind the veil that separated life and death.
Then something shifted – the tiniest puff of air across her neck. She blinked.
He was there at the foot of her bed, a man as fully alive as any she’d ever seen.
He didn’t smile.
His Roman nose was slightly too big for his face but was balanced by waves of thick curly hair and broad shoulders. She was fascinated. This was the man whose heart was inside her. She dropped her eyes to his chest, clothed in a white business shirt. She stared at the smart black buttons done up neatly. He wore silver cufflinks.
Then the light in the room transformed, the dark blue intensifying into indigo and then into black.
Her heart rate – his heart rate – kicked up a notch. She was falling, as though she might slide right off the edge of the bed. The light fixture on the ceiling began to flick backwards and forwards as nausea kicked in and the room began to spin. She closed her eyes, panicked, willing it all to stop, but she spun and spun, as though on an awful amusement ride she couldn’t get off. She whimpered, unable to speak.
Fear whiplashed through her. She began to cry, the whole room roiling from side to side like an enormous sea vessel in a terrifying storm. Please, make it stop, she begged him silently.
She tried to fix her gaze on something solid in the room but the only thing motionless was him. She stared into his eyes. They were cold and unmoving, pits of black.
He’s here to kill me.
And then she saw the blood, oozing through the buttons of his shirt, the massive wound beneath it from where his heart was taken, flowing, now gushing, blood pouring from him while all around them the room spun, faster and faster into a whirlpool of colours. She screwed her eyes shut, holding on for dear life.
Pippa’s She Shed was adorned with multiple vases of fragrant pink roses, which had all burst into spring bloom. The aroma was heady, instantly soothing Gabby’s distress from her otherworldly experience during the night. ‘It smells amazing in here,’ she said, pulling up the wooden chair next to Pippa’s desk.
‘They’re too beautiful to let them rot on the bushes,’ Pippa said, pushing the plunger down in the coffee press. It was Gabby’s Flying Monkeys blend, and the notes of rose and apple in the brew were intensified by the floral scents dripping from the air. It made Gabby slightly giddy with pleasure.
Pippa handed Gabby the coffee in a cream-coloured hand-thrown mug. Her sister had recently started collecting pieces from a local potter who dug his own clay from the surrounding area and used a kick wheel to spin the clay the way they did before electricity, as well as using fire to drive the intense heat of the kiln. Each piece was unique and cost a bomb, so she was building up her collection slowly.
‘Are you okay?’ Gabby asked, studying Pippa’s face. She looked effortlessly elegant as always, her make-up immaculate, but her eyes and cheeks pulled downwards. At her words, Pippa’s eyes filled with tears. She hurried to put her own mug down on her desk and place her fingers under her eyes to catch the tears and avoid messing her mascara.
‘It’s over,’ Pippa said, giving up on trying to stem the tears. She whipped out a couple of tissues from a box and held them to her eyes, leaning her elbows on her desk.
‘What happened?’ Gabby asked, putting down her coffee and laying her hand on Pippa’s back.
‘Harvey and I were fighting last night. It was awful. We tried to lock ourselves away in the bedroom but we just lost it and started yelling at each other. The kids could hear us. Sadie came in crying, asking what was wrong.’
‘Oh, shit.’ Gabby put her hand on Pippa’s arm.
‘Then Felix came in and told us to stop yelling. Then Hunter came in and demanded to know if we were getting divorced, and Harvey …’ – she paused to hiccup a few times – ‘Harvey just blurted out, Yes, we are! then stormed out, grabbed the car keys and left.’
‘He left you alone to deal with the kids?’
Pippa nodded through her sobs.
‘What happened then?’
‘I had to sit them down and tell them that we both loved them very much and nothing would change that, and that Harvey and I did still love each other too, but sometimes …’ She hiccupped some more. ‘… Sometimes people grow apart and can’t live together any more.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘You know, the usual tripe you hear on television all the time.’
‘How did they take it?’
‘Hunter stormed off to his room and slammed the door. The other three cried themselves to sleep.’
‘That’s really crap, Pip.’ Gabby hugged her.
‘I just wish we’d had the time to get ourselves into a good state and go through everything calmly with them. We should have got over ourselves and gone to counselling so we could show a united, supportive front for them, rather than exploding into the bloody natural disaster they’re now having to wade through.’
‘That would have been ideal, sure, but it’s not too late. You could still all go together as a family. It would help now as you move through the stages of separation.’
‘You think?’ Pippa looked up, her eyes red, desperate to cling to some sort of hope.
‘Definitely. Would you like me to help you find someone to make an appointment with?’
Pippa nodded and Gabby took over in front o
f the computer to search for a family counsellor who could help them as soon as possible. Twenty minutes later, they had an appointment booked. Even if Harvey refused to go, it would still help Pippa and the kids.
Pippa pulled herself together and finished her now-cold coffee. She put her hand to her cheek. ‘I must look a sight.’
‘Actually, you still look beautiful even when you’re soggy.’
Pippa gave her a small, grateful smile. Then she took a deep breath and turned her attention to Gabby. ‘What brought you around this morning, anyway?’
It was Gabby’s turn to take a deep breath. She told Pippa about the awful nightmare she’d had. ‘At least, I think it was a nightmare, but I also felt like I was awake. I really have no idea if it was real or not.’
Pippa groaned. ‘I don’t like this at all.’
‘Well, then you might not like the reason I’m here.’
Pippa raised her eyebrows at Gabby, waiting.
‘I’ve decided I need a psychic.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘No, I’m not. We’re trying to communicate with a dead person. A psychic seems like the most logical person to help.’
‘I’m not sure you can use the words psychic and logical in the same sentence.’
‘So, I found one online.’ Gabby paused.
‘And?’ Pippa blew her nose.
‘And she’s not far from here. I was hoping you’d come with me.’ Gabby grinned at Pippa expectantly.
Pippa looked aghast. ‘But I don’t believe in psychics.’
‘It doesn’t matter. I’ve never been to one either. For the purpose of today, I just need some … support, I guess. This whole thing is undeniably a bit creepy, but I need it to end. Evan wants something from me, Krystal wants something from me, and I want to repay them for what they did. They saved my life.’
The guilt-trip worked. ‘All right, all right, I’ll come. I’m probably not in any fit state to work today anyway. But, for the record, I don’t think this is a good idea. I don’t think any of it is a good idea.’
‘Your objection is noted. You are absolved from any responsibility.’
Miss Melba’s Reading Room was in the backyard of a small brick house, surrounded by tall, gnarled trees that looked like they belonged in an Enid Blyton story. Actual toadstools grew in the lawn and small, gilded fairy doors sat against the trunks of the trees. Fairy lights dripped from branches; in the overgrown grotto, their light was actually rather charming, even in the middle of the day. Gabby and Pippa followed the pebbled path around the side of the house and found a purple door with a dreamcatcher hanging at head height. Knee-high hunks of rose quartz crystal sat either side of the doormat, which proclaimed Peace to the world. Gabby paused, exchanging a look with Pippa, who shook her head slowly with derision.
‘Come in!’ Miss Melba called from inside, making them both jump.
Gabby pushed open the door and they entered a softly lit one-room hut, with more fairy lights strung around the walls. Thick claret-coloured curtains were drawn across the windows. It was like being inside a gypsy caravan.
‘Welcome,’ Miss Melba said, shuffling cards and beckoning them over with a tilt of her head. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ she said to Gabby, seeming to intuit that it was Gabby who was there to see her. But then, Pippa was hanging back with her arms crossed, so perhaps no special insight was required. She smiled at Pippa. ‘Come in, dear. I don’t bite.’
The sisters pulled out heavy wooden chairs, which scraped over the blue wooden floor, and sat, adjusting purple sateen cushions at their backs.
Miss Melba’s age was not easy to guess. She wore heavy make-up and her black hair was mostly covered with a green scarf. The skin of her face was plump but her hands, expertly shuffling a worn deck of tarot cards, were spotted and veiny. Strings of coloured beads and crystals plunged down her chest and disappeared into her shelf of bosom. Other than that, she was dressed entirely in black.
‘Have you come to see me about a man?’ she asked suddenly, piercing Gabby with a stare that unnerved her.
‘Yes, sort of. Probably not in the way you think, though.’
Miss Melba nodded and pulled out a card, flipping it over in the centre of the table.
Out of the corner of her eye, Gabby could see Pippa giving her a hard stare. She had been adamant on the drive over that Gabby shouldn’t give Miss Melba any details at all. ‘If she really is psychic she shouldn’t need any information,’ she’d declared knowledgeably.
Miss Melba studied the card, then put it back into the deck and continued to shuffle for a moment, then closed her eyes, her hands slowing in their rhythm.
Gabby’s scalp tingled.
‘The man you’ve come to see me about,’ Miss Melba began, her eyes still closed, her voice low, ‘he’s crossed over, hasn’t he?’
‘Yes,’ Gabby said, casting her eyes around the small room, looking for any sign of Evan.
‘You two have unfinished business,’ Miss Melba went on.
‘Yes.’
Miss Melba nodded slowly, tilting her head to the side as if listening. Then she frowned and shook her head. ‘There is something different about this. He is trying to talk but the …’ She clicked her fingers as if trying to find the right word. ‘The vibration is off, somehow.’
Beside Gabby, Pippa rubbed her forehead, perhaps feeling tense and sceptical, or perhaps afraid of where this was going. Gabby wasn’t sure if she should help Melba by telling her about the transplant or just wait it out. Before she could decide, Melba spoke again.
‘I need something of yours,’ she said, opening her eyes. ‘A piece of jewellery or something like that. Something you wear a lot. Or even your phone will do. Just something that holds your vibration.’
‘Oh, okay.’ Gabby reached into her bag for her phone, which she’d turned off before coming in, and handed it to Melba, who took it with both hands and held it to her chest, her eyes closed once more in her listening pose.
Gabby chanced a look at Pippa, who merely raised her eyebrows and lifted a shoulder to suggest she had no idea what was going on.
‘You and he were very close,’ Melba said. ‘No, wait. You are still close?’ She opened her eyes and stared at Gabby, perplexed. ‘But he has crossed over, yes?’
‘Yes.’ Gabby swallowed. ‘I have his heart.’
Pippa tsked.
Melba furrowed her brow.
‘I had a heart transplant and his heart is now in my chest,’ Gabby clarified.
Melba looked relieved. ‘Ah, yes, I see that now. That makes sense. That’s why the vibration is confused. His spirit is here but so too is a physical piece of him.’ She smiled as if this was the most interesting reading she’d done in a long time.
‘He’s been hanging around,’ Gabby said. ‘Haunting me, I guess.’
Melba frowned. ‘And you want to know why?’
‘I think he wants me to speak to his wife. She has questions for him. But when we tried to talk to him together, it really upset her because I didn’t have enough information. I thought maybe you could speak to him? I’m not a psychic …’
‘Everyone has psychic abilities, but it’s like a muscle: you have to use it or you’ll lose it.’ Melba’s tone was encouraging.
‘That might be true,’ Gabby conceded, ‘but I don’t think I have time to start from the beginning. We need a professional to talk to him.’
Melba took a deep breath, rubbed Gabby’s phone between her hands, and once again closed her eyes to listen for Evan’s spirit.
Gabby waited. Pippa wiggled her foot. Melba breathed.
Finally, Melba handed back Gabby’s phone. ‘All right, Evan says –’
Gabby’s face burst into a smile. Pippa’s mouth fell open. Evan. Melba knew his name! She had to be the real thing.
‘– that this is a journey for you and his wife to take together.’
‘What?’ Gabby was shocked.
‘He says he wants you to help her. There are
things she needs to know.’
‘Then why can’t he just tell you now, and you can tell me and I can tell Krystal?’
Melba nodded. ‘That would be easier for us to cope with, wouldn’t it?’ She smiled sympathetically. ‘Here on the earth plane, we want things finished and we want things now. We don’t want to wait. And we also always want to know why, why, why. But out there, on the spirit plane, they aren’t so concerned with providing reasons or following timelines.’ She shrugged. ‘We don’t know exactly what they do out there but they aren’t always available to come to the phone, as it were.’ She chuckled gently at her own joke.
Gabby sighed in frustration. ‘So, what do I do?’
‘You’re just going to have to keep trying.’
Now Gabby was cranky. She’d had to pay for this reading up front – one hundred dollars through PayPal – and this was all she was going to get? Apart from the emotional stress this whole fiasco was causing her, the lack of sleep and the potential threat to her physical wellbeing, she had an ageing father to keep an eye on, an AWOL ex-husband to marshal and a business to run. All this time away from the cafe, while doable in the short term, was going to start affecting it soon. She might not be needed on the floor, but she played important roles in providing guidance and boosting morale, rostering, balancing the till, banking, paying bills, ordering stock, meeting with the growing number of buyers of their roasted beans, scheduling maintenance checks, and organising quarterly tax returns, ongoing marketing and more. Her mind needed to be fully committed to the job, not constantly distracted by worries that some sort of vision was going to strike her.
The Gift of Life Page 20
