Falling For Henry

by Beverley Brenna

  “Dad!” she’d yelled, but her father didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. And caught in the seat belt, amidst the compacted metal, she hadn’t done anything to help. It was all she could do to stay conscious and yell for someone to come and get them out. Except that she was the only one left in the car. He’d been thrown through the front windshield, and when the fire department finally arrived, with the ambulance, it was too late. He was dead.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” asked Hal over the rumble of the approaching train. She shook her head, her body beginning to tremble. Caught in the broken car, she’d been sure she’d run out of air, miraculously continuing to breathe until the jaws of life opened a space for the paramedics to get her out. Hal squeezed her hand. Suddenly she caught a glimpse of something plunging along the rails away from them.

  “There!” she gasped, the sudden intake of air putting her involuntary shaking to rest. All in a flash, the train was in front of them and Hal was pulling her through the open doorway. What had she seen? Just shadows, or flesh and blood? For a moment, she had been sure she had spotted a wolf.

  The train lurched forward and Kate blinked, the view from the scratched window too blurred to see anything. And then they were inside the darkness of the tunnel, and Kate, feeling sick to her stomach, looked away from the glass. The two girls behind them had just finished doing their nails, and the smell of polish stung Kate’s nostrils. Nothing like a strong scent to ground you in reality. It must have been shadows she’d seen on the tracks; nothing could live in the underground.

  Hal, apparently unconcerned that she hadn’t answered his question, was taking gum out of his backpack. The people in the car with them seemed oblivious to anything extraordinary outside. Everyone was busy with something. The guy in front was reading a paperback. Kate craned her neck. It was Gone with the Wind. The older man beside him was scanning The London Times. Across the aisle, a Goth was gently tugging at a ring embedded in his upper lip, deeply engaged in conversation with the well-dressed businessman beside him. Their banter, reaching Kate’s ears, sounded comfortable, warm. They leaned toward each other, obviously partners. How different from each other they look, thought Kate, yet how compatible. She longed for just such an easy relationship, one where communication was effortless. If she wasn’t such a loser, maybe she could think of something interesting to say to Hal. She clenched her hands, willing something smart to come out of her mouth, but all she could think of was stuff about the weather, and how dumb was that?

  Maybe it hadn’t been a wolf back there, she thought. Maybe it was just a dog, a stray who’d somehow found its way down into the tube station. It would run along the tracks and then escape into a side passage at the sound of the approaching train. Or be crushed by the vehicle, its body never found because rats would make swift work of the carcass.

  “Come on, it won’t kill you,” said Hal.

  “What?” Kate asked.

  Hal waved the gum under her nose. “Gum?”

  “Oh, thanks,” Kate replied, but she made no move to take any.

  “What are you so serious about?” Hal asked.

  “Oh … I … uh … was just thinking about our field trip today,” she replied with a false laugh, taking the package. “We went to the museum at Greenwich.” She popped a piece of gum into her mouth and chewed, the strong smell of mint reminding her of the scene in the forest. She saw again the people on horseback, heard the sound of the hunting horn.

  “Ah, the home of time,” said Hal. “What did you think of the Prime Meridian?”

  “What?” asked Kate, thinking he was talking about numbers.

  “The place where all the clocks in the world are set. Zero degrees longitude. You can actually stand with one foot in the eastern hemisphere and one foot in the western hemisphere.”

  “Well … I don’t think we went there,” said Kate, returning the pack of gum.

  “Pity,” said Hal. “It’s a hoot. I’ve been there loads of times.”

  “Can you … can you feel the difference? Between time zones?” asked Kate, her pulse starting to race again.

  “You bet,” he said. “Sometimes I can almost feel myself disappearing.”

  “What?” Kate said, startled.

  “You can’t be in two time zones at the same time, now, can you?” he went on in a light voice. “Sometimes, when you have a choice, you have to pick one time or the other, and then take the consequences.”

  “You mean change times?” she asked. He gave a short explosive laugh.

  “Hah! Well, that’s the question, isn’t it? The question that people have asked for centuries. Is time travel possible?” She saw all at once that he was joking and tried to smile. When he offered her another piece of gum, she took it and chewed hard, biting her tongue and then blinking as tears came to her eyes.

  8

  The concert

  WHEN THEY GOT off the train at Hyde Park Corner, Kate and Hal took the stairs two at a time, bursting out into the mild air. No frost tonight. Still, it was damp, and the hint of cold managed to find its way under Kate’s skin.

  “Was it that different, then, from your subways?” Hal asked.

  Kate paused. For certain, there were no wolves in the New York subways. “No, not much different,” she said, finally, “not really,” and did her best to smile. She opened her mouth to try the giggle, but nothing came out. Just as well, she told herself. It would likely have been another one of those squeaks. Not very impressive. She wished desperately that she had something interesting to say to Hal, something that would make him laugh or look at her admiringly. Instead, she felt as heavy as a boiled egg, and just as talkative. Humpty Dumpty, she thought dismally.

  They walked along toward a small crowd that had gathered around a man in striped pants, standing on an apple crate and gesturing wildly. Kate hung back as they approached but Hal pulled her forward.

  “These people are a disgrace,” said Hal, flinging his arm around Kate’s shoulders. “Going to the dogs, that’s what’s happening to this city.”

  “I was fell sure I’d had them aw,” the man was whining, his voice raspy, his arms outstretched. “But bad omens in these times has brought back the creeshie devils.” He cast a bloodshot eye on the handful of onlookers. The way he moved his head reminded Kate of a rusty signboard swinging back and forth, back and forth in the wind.

  “Afore ye knows what befell ye—” he continued.

  “Okay, move along, move along.” A policeman, a bobby, Kate thought, had appeared, dispersing the crowd. “Away, or I’ll arrest you for disturbing the peace,” the bobby said. In response, the small man shook his head from side to side as he backed away, muttering, “They wouldnae listen … nae, they wouldnae listen …”

  Kate felt a shiver run down her spine. He was creepy. She wondered if he were one of the many homeless people who slept outside. She’d seen the shelters made from cardboard and old quilts. She shivered again, watching him skulk off into the shadows.

  “What was that guy talking about?” she asked Hal.

  “Wolves,” said Hal, snorting, giving her shoulder a squeeze before dropping his arm. “He thinks that London’s actually going to the wolves! Says there’s a pack here that needs to be hunted down. I heard him last Sunday. ’Course he’s cracked in the head.”

  “But I think … I think there are wolves here,” Kate suddenly confided. “I’ve … I think I’ve seen them, too.”

  “You must be off your nut!” said Hal. “There haven’t been wolves here for hundreds of years. We exterminated them, you know, in about the fifteenth century. Good thing, too, bloodthirsty devils.”

  A majestic black woman in a sweeping polka-dot muumuu stepped over to them.

  “I bet you are wondering,” she intoned, “about the power of love.”

  “No, we’re not, actually,” snapped Hal in a voice Kate hadn’t heard from him before. The woman looked affronted. He doesn’t have to speak so roughly, Kate thought
.

  “For just two pounds, you could share your love with those who need it most,” the woman told them.

  “Who? Who needs it most?” asked Hal boldly.

  “The little children,” she answered.

  “We don’t have time for this,” muttered Hal, taking Kate’s arm. The smell of something metallic, maybe his deodorant, made Kate take a step away and break free of him.

  “Come on or we’ll be late!” called Hal, striding ahead. “We’ve got a bit of a walk, yet.” Kate followed, looking back at the woman who had raised her arms and was rocking back and forth as she spoke. Was she really collecting for charity? Kate couldn’t be sure.

  The grass was thick underfoot, and although Kate’s legs ached from all the walking she’d done that day, she didn’t mind the exercise. At least when you were walking, you didn’t have to talk as much. Eventually they stood before a massive round building. It reminded her of Citi Field where her father had taken her to see the New York Mets play baseball.

  “What is this place?” Kate breathed.

  “The Royal Albert Hall,” Hal said. “Hurry up—this way.”

  They went up the steps and through a gilded door that opened onto red velvet carpets. Kate looked up at the high ceilings, feeling her heart lift with the quantity of fresh, light air. A man in a blue suit was standing in the lobby collecting tickets, and Hal pulled her around behind the line of people and up a narrow stairway to the left.

  “Sshhh,” he whispered in response to her unasked question. “In here!” He led her down a hallway and then through a white door embossed with gold. They entered a private box slung out over the seats on the main floor. Unless they leaned over, no one could see them. Hal sat down and Kate sat beside him, running her hand along the plush red velvet of her seat.

  “Whose box is this?” she whispered.

  “Don’t need to whisper here,” he said. “No one’ll pay us any mind. It’s the Queen’s box, if you must know. But I happen to know the Queen isn’t going to be along tonight.” He gave her a big grin, and there was that charming dimple again. “She’s otherwise engaged,” he added, and winked.

  The concert began and soon Hal offered her some crisps he’d brought in his leather case. She munched her way through what Hal said was a Bach sonata before she remembered her diet. It was strange to be at a concert of classical music. Who would have guessed that Hal was into this kind of thing? After a while, he offered her a candy and she took it without thinking, and then, when the strong lemon taste caught her by surprise, she spit it into her hand and stuffed it into a Kleenex. Too late, however. The lemony taste had already conjured the closed-in feeling, and she choked and stood up.

  “The lavatory’s down the hall,” said Hal, without taking his eyes from the stage.

  Kate stumbled out of the box and stood in the hallway, grateful that there were no ushers about. Breathe, she coached herself. Steady. In and out, in and out. Breathe. Calm down. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. Alongside the helpful phrases came another, harsher voice from inside her head: Why am I such a freak?

  She stumbled into the ladies’ room and washed her hands, holding them under the tap long enough for the hot water to soothe her spirits. When she turned over her left hand and stared at the palm, she muttered: “K for Kate. I’m still here.” She existed, as she always had. Things would be fine. They had to be. Believe, Gran always said. Believe.

  It was strange how lemon brought out her worst fears. She swallowed, grateful that the panic attack had ended. Quietly, she tiptoed back to the box and lowered herself beside Hal. He acknowledged neither her quick exit nor her return. Notes from the orchestra made the air around her alive, and she breathed deeply, feeling somehow older here in the splendor of the Royal Albert Hall beside this good-looking guy. She didn’t know what the orchestra was playing but she didn’t care. It was nice, whatever it was. Little melodies intertwined, echoing in the wide, dark spaces of the hall. Kate thought of the couple on the subway, and the music reminded her of the two of them in harmony.

  “It’s early,” Hal said, as they approached her building after the concert was over. “Only eleven. Is your sister home?”

  “Not likely,” Kate said. “Sometimes they … sometimes they finish sooner, but usually it’s—”

  “I wonder what she did for her audition piece,” muttered Hal. “It had to be brilliant, to get her into RADA—”

  “I don’t know,” said Kate. “But I could ask her. She loves to talk about—”

  Hal interrupted by leaning close and touching her lips with his. She breathed in his warm, metallic scent, feeling weak in the knees. The kiss went on and on, and might have lasted even longer if a couple of older women hadn’t gotten out of a cab and brushed past them on the walk, causing her to pull away. Hal must really like her. She briefly wondered why he was so interested in Willow, and then pushed the thought out of her mind.

  Two objects less than an atom’s length apart will fall together, she considered, abstractly, remembering one of the theorems in her physics book. But—and she gave herself credit for this afterwards—she didn’t say it out loud.

  “Well, bye,” she called, heading up the walk.

  “Cheerio,” he replied. “See you.”

  See you. That meant he wanted to see her again! The night, she thought as she ran up the stairs to the second floor, had been perfect.

  The hallway was exceptionally dark; some of the overhead bulbs had burned out and Kate could barely see to fit the key into the lock. The mechanism was sticky, as usual, and she worked away, swearing under her breath, for a good five minutes. When the door finally opened, she heard an eerie howl above the rumble of construction that was a constant backdrop in London. She stopped and listened, straining to hear the sound again, but it didn’t come. She stepped into the flat and slipped off her shoes, wondering whether anyone else in the building had heard the noise.

  She slowly got ready for bed and, as she was brushing her hair, she heard the sound again, not disconnected, as it had been before, but in a series of howls. She went to the window and stared down into the misty street. The eerie cadences rose and fell. Dogs? No. It had to be wolves. A shiver ran down her spine. Something wasn’t right, and she thought about phoning Gran again but looked at the clock. Almost midnight. Way too late to call. The howling stopped. She’d phone in the morning. After she had a good sleep to clear her head.

  But a good sleep was far from what she had. She dreamed of the tunnel at Greenwich, entering it in the company of a great gray wolf with steely eyes. The wolf seemed to be her guide, and she moved alongside it with some anxiety, making sure not to get too close. There was something the wolf was searching for, something it wanted her to find. What could it be? And then, without satisfying her curiosity, she awoke, sweating in tightly bound covers, relieved at being able to breathe again but dismayed at the puzzles the dream had conjured.

  Awake in the dark, her mind spun to the animal she’d seen in the Underground. And the crazy man in Hyde Park, talking about bad omens. For a moment, Kate wondered if she had dreamed the date, dreamed, in fact, the whole day. But when she thought of Hal’s kiss, she knew it had been real, his lips against hers. The memory of that kiss distracted her until the sound of a door slamming separated Kate from her thoughts. The hall light came on and, in an instant, Willow was in Kate’s bedroom doorway, looking furious.

  “Why didn’t you lock the door before you went to bed!” she said. “You know we’ve always got to keep the flat locked!”

  “I guess I forgot,” Kate mumbled.

  “You’re just too lazy to think about safety!” yelled Willow. “Why don’t you just grow up!”

  She turned and slammed the door behind her.

  “Okay, be that way, Miss Perfect,” muttered Kate.

  Sleep didn’t come for a long time after that, and when it did, there were no more dreams. When Kate awoke, it was Saturday morning, and the blue dress was stretch
ed across the foot of her bed.

  9

  The dress

  KATE REACHED OUT for the dress just as Willow called, “Wake up, sleepyhead! Have a look at your early birthday present.” Her voice held no trace of last night’s anger.

  “The dress? It’s for me?” Kate asked sleepily.

  “Don’t act innocent,” Willow answered. “I know you already found it in my closet! Anyway, since you’ve already seen it, I thought I’d get you to try it on. Then I’ll finish that side seam so it’ll be ready for Monday, the big day. You might want to wear it to school or something.”

  The idea of wearing this dress to school on her fifteenth birthday made Kate roll her eyes, but she said, “Wow! Uh … maybe.” Might as well humor her sister.

  “It was extra from the show,” said Willow, stretching out her long, model’s legs to sit on the side of Kate’s bed and running a hand through her short blonde hair. “The costume mistress made it for Katherine of Aragon—you know, Henry VIII’s first wife. And then the director didn’t like the blue. He wanted cornflower blue, not gentian blue, or something like that. Anyway, this one wouldn’t do, so Ariana offered it to anybody for cheap. I thought you might like it. Your wardrobe could use a lift. You wear such ugly stuff.”

  “It’s not like I want to wear that stupid uniform,” Kate said defiantly, sitting up and swinging her legs out of bed. Next to Willow’s, they looked short and plump.

  “Well, it’s for after school, then,” said Willow, smoothing the fabric of her own stylish top where it wrinkled above the waistband of her tight jeans. “Don’t get huffy. You must get tired of sweatshirts.”

  “Not really,” Kate began, conscious of the gray sweatshirt she’d slept in. It was easier to sleep in your clothes than change, and she did it quite often.

  “Live a little!” advised Willow. “And for goodness sakes, do something today other than hanging around. Run, walk, anything! You always used to run back home, and I think it kept you from being so melancholy. Now, try on the dress and I’ll finish that seam.”