The Way Home

by Glover, Nhys

  But there had been no other man since Hugh, and looking at Hawk had reminded her how much she missed sex. And looking the way she now did, it was unlikely she was going to get any for some years to come. If she lived that long, of course.

  When Marnie had told her what seeing Hawk portended, Cassie hadn’t felt fear. It had left her feeling relieved. How bizarre was that? To fight with everything she had to survive the painful surgery and sickening chemo, only to get to the other end and be relieved at the idea of her approaching death.

  But death meant she didn’t have to struggle anymore. She could just give in gracefully. It had all become too much somewhere along the way. Life hadn’t been worth living since Fran died anyway. What did it matter that it was cut short? People clung to life long after it stopped being satisfying, didn’t they? So, it was good that she wasn’t going to have to do it anymore.

  She wandered downstairs to the kitchen and put on the kettle for a cup of hot chocolate. The water had only just boiled when Marnie made an appearance, looking rumpled and bleary-eyed.

  ‘Can’t sleep?’ she took another cup out of the cupboard and Cassie spooned powdered chocolate into it and then added water while Marnie went for the milk.

  ‘I had a midnight caller,’ Cassie said as calmly as she could manage. She needed to hear if her ‘dream’ was normal for these ghostly sightings.

  Marnie straightened from leaning into the fridge. Her hand was empty of the milk carton she was seeking. ‘What?’

  ‘Hawk. I’m still not sure I didn’t dream it. He was in my room and he kissed my cheek. That woke me up. We had a good talk but I blew it by telling him the year. He didn’t know he was dead. It was such a shock to him that he just disappeared. Poof!’

  Marnie shut the fridge and sat down, her eyes as round as table tennis balls. She kept trying to say something but every attempt ended with a grunt.

  ‘It was a dream, wasn’t it?’ Cassie asked, going to the fridge for the milk and putting a liberal amount in each mug. Then she brought the hot chocolates to the table and sat down.

  ‘Tell me it was a dream, Marnie. I need to know that I’m not going crazy. Tell me other people have dreamt about him.’

  ‘I used to dream about him taking me for plane rides when I was a child, but as far as I know, no one has ever said he appeared to them in a dream or that they spoke to him. In fact, no one has ever said they saw him in the house. He’s always out in the garden leaning against that tree.’

  Cassie didn’t know what to feel about this new information. Did it mean she was going mad? After all, madness was simply perceiving the world in a way that was different to the agreed norm. If no one else spoke to the ghost, then that made her… delusional, didn’t it?

  ‘Tell me all about it. I never thought he was anything more than an echo from the past. Like the sounds you hear in old houses. An impression, like those early photographs made by sunlight.’

  Cassie filled her in on their conversation and their odd experiments with the furniture and touching. It embarrassed her to talk about what seemed like such a personal experience, and she left out the powerful surge of… something… an electrical charge to the heart that had rippled out to her extremities when Hawk wove his fingers with hers.

  ‘Star Wars? You thought he’d understand, “Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope”? Really?’

  Her sarcasm made Cassie laugh at herself. ‘My dream, my choices.’

  Marnie chuckled and took a swallow of hot chocolate. ‘I don’t think it was a dream, dear. I think you’re what he’s been waiting for.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘It always seemed peculiar how much he loved this house. He felt it called to him. But what if it weren’t the house that called to him? What if it were you? Across time…’

  ‘So you’re saying he’s not a ghost, he’s a time traveller? Like in The Time Traveller’s Wife?’

  ‘No… Not exactly. I don’t think he’s being pulled out of time, although the way he describes the zapping up into your bedroom is rather reminiscent of the way Bruce Banner zapped around. But Hawk had his clothes on, didn’t he?’ Marnie gave another little chuckle.

  ‘Bruce Banner is the Hulk. You mean Eric Bana, who starred in the Hulk and TTW. Hawk looks a little bit like Bana, actually; especially last night when he looked so… vulnerable.’ Cassie gave her head a shake to clear her mind. ‘But no, I don’t think he’s from another time. I think he’s dead. I think he’s a ghost stuck in this house.’

  ‘Stuck in this house waiting for you…’

  ‘I’ve been coming to Grange End since I was a child. If he were waiting for me, I’d have seen him before this!’

  ‘Not if the only time he can come through is when…’ Marnie took another sip of chocolate so she didn’t have to finish her sentence.

  ‘When someone dies,’ Cassie finished for her. ‘So you think he’s been waiting for me to be ready to die before he could pop back in? Is that what you’re getting at?’

  Marnie sighed heavily. ‘I don’t know what I’m getting at exactly. The facts as we know them are: Hawk was a regular visitor here in 1940 when he felt the house welcomed him. Hawk is seen as a translucent apparition by my father just before he died in battle in 1945. Hawk is then seen in an identical way by a series of people just before they died. All of them described him as a uniformed man leaning against the tree in the garden, smoking. Some say he looks at them briefly. No one reports seeing him solid. No one reports him in their dreams, not even Fran. No one speaks to him or has him kiss or touch them. No one but you has suggested that he doesn’t know he’s dead.’

  ‘Fran?’ Cassie put down her mug before she dropped it. Her voice sounded wobbly to her own ears.

  ‘Sorry, I wasn’t going to mention her. I knew it would upset you. But yes, on her last visit home she saw him. She knew the story, of course, so it unsettled her. It was almost as if she’d expected to see him; as if she knew she was going to die.’

  ‘But she died in an accident. Someone jostled her off the Tube station platform just before that train went through. She didn’t jump. The CCTV footage showed that much.’ Cassie knew her voice was high with distress but she couldn’t calm it.

  ‘No, she didn’t commit suicide, but I don’t think it was an accident either. She was being very mysterious, edgy as a cat, just before it happened. Surely you sensed that.’

  ‘I thought she was seeing someone and didn’t want to tell me about him because she knew I wouldn’t approve. A married man or something. She never told me she saw Hawk.’

  ‘A family secret. After those fool ghost hunters came here, we tended to shut up about it.’ Marnie explained.

  ‘She told me she loved me the day before she died. We went out for lunch to celebrate my birthday and she gave me this locket.’ Cassie fingered the Art Nouveau, gold filigree locket she wore around her neck at all times. ‘It has a picture of the three of us in it. I didn’t want to take it because it was your family heirloom, but she said I was her sister, in all but blood, and that she loved me. She sounded so sad, as if she missed me. We’d been drifting apart in that year. Her work kept her so busy, and then she got secretive. I didn’t even expect to see her for my birthday. Then up she pops. Are you saying she’d been up here before she’d come to London to meet up with me?’

  Marnie nodded. ‘Yes. After she saw Hawk… well, the next thing I knew she’s fishing out my mother’s locket, cutting up an old picture of the three of us and putting it inside. She said there wouldn’t be a daughter to give it to now, so she’d pass it on to you and you could keep the tradition going. I thought…’

  ‘Thought what?’ Cassie had forgotten to breathe.

  ‘I thought she was really preoccupied with the locket, almost manic as she worked to get the picture in there. When she showed me it, I expected to see something more there than just a photo.’

  ‘Something more?’

  ‘I was mistaken. She must have been fiddling with whatever
she used to stick the picture in with, that’s all. She would have told me if there was anything else.’

  ‘I can’t believe she knew she was going to die when I saw her. Why didn’t she tell me?’

  ‘Because you don’t believe in all this fruitcake stuff, remember? And she didn’t want to upset you. She was missing you as much as you were missing her. I think she wanted to quit her job and come home but she had a contract. They wouldn’t let her break it.’

  ‘Poor Franny. I thought she loved that job.’

  Marnie patted Cassie’s hand and sighed deeply. ‘I’m off to bed again. Maybe you “talking in your sleep” won’t wake me this time.’ She let her lips quirk impishly.

  ‘If I start talking to ghosts again, I promise to keep it down.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  In the blink of an eye, Hawk was once more in the walled garden, his cigarette in hand, drawing another breath of smoke into his lungs. This was where he belonged in this place, doing what he’d always done, lost in the moment and at peace. This house was so familiar to him, so welcoming. Even when he hadn’t been back there for years, it still held out its arms to him. So comforting, so familiar – like the strange, bald woman and her even stranger tales.

  But she was beginning to fade from his mind now, as the shock of her words lessened and the sweet numbness returned.

  No! He wouldn’t let her go as the others had gone from his mind. That ethereal face was too precious to be forgotten. He didn’t want to forget her, no matter how much her words challenged him.

  He glanced up at the window and saw her there. It was morning and he could see the sunshine gleaming on her face and smooth head. Not a collaborator as he’d first thought. Her baldness had another purpose. One he needed to understand.

  He needed to be with her! This elfin woman needed him. Hawk didn’t know how or why he knew this, but her need was palpable to him and he wouldn’t let her go!

  In the next blink, he was standing beside her in her bedroom. She was still wearing the tight-fitting singlet that only came to her ribs. It was blue, he could see that now and it matched her eyes – big blue eyes. Now he could see she wore lose fitting shorts made of blue floral material. He could see her long bare legs that would have been gorgeous if she weren’t so painfully thin.

  Her little gasp was the only indication she gave that he’d surprised her by his sudden reappearance. She turned to him and studied him as if seeing him for the first time. Almost without being aware that she was doing it, her hand came up and cupped his cheek. He watched the emotions flicker across her expressive face. Wonder, caution, excitement, confusion and awe. But what he really wanted to see was attraction, arousal… and most desired of all… love. Those were not there.

  ‘They’re hazel, I knew it. I’d really started to believe you were a dream. Where did you go?’ She said all in one breath.

  ‘Down to the garden. I… I almost lost you. You were fading from my memory as a dream does when you wake up. But I clung to you and when I looked up, I saw you in the window and it was morning. I wanted to be here with you again and so I am. I was gone no more than a minute.’

  ‘No. You’ve been gone hours. I looked at the time when you left. It was just after midnight and now it’s eight in the morning. Eight hours.’

  Hawk frowned and leaned into her hand, trying to absorb all the sensation he could from her touch. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

  ‘Either this is a dream… or I am coming to the same conclusion you have. I must be a ghost. How could I have imagined someone like you sixty-nine years into the future? The last thing I remember was a cold March day in 1944. I was in Northolt and my squadron was taking possession of the new mustangs. How could I have died then? In the air, I can accept, but I was on the ground, perfectly safe. There were no bombers overhead. No threats at all.’

  She frowned and rubbed her thumb against his cheek as she cupped it with her palm. ‘I don’t know. I’m still trying to get my head around the fact that you’re a real ghost and not just a dream or figment of my imagination. Maybe I’ve developed a brain tumour and I’m hallucinating. But then Marnie wouldn’t believe in you, would she? She wouldn’t say others had seen you. She wouldn’t think you’d come…’ She blushed prettily and looked away, taking her hand from his cheek.

  He felt the loss of her touch keenly. Determined to keep the connection, no matter how limited, he reached out and fingered her ear. It had gone as pink as her cheeks.

  ‘You look like a pixie do you know that? Last night, I was checking to see if your ear was pointed. Is it the fashion to shave your head now?’

  Her body went stiff and she turned even further away from him. What had he said? Had he insulted her in some way? Maybe being compared to a pixie was inappropriate.

  ‘What did I say?’ He used his hand to turn her face back to him gently.

  ‘No, being bald isn’t a fashion statement for women, although it is for men. Mine is the result of chemo.’

  ‘Chemo?’ He frowned. They were entering another one of those conversations where each explanation led only to more confusion.

  ‘I got breast cancer, and as well as removing my breasts,’ she waved at her chest in annoyance, ‘they injected me with chemicals that killed off any cancer cells still circulating in my body. Chemotherapy, it’s called. It’s shortened to chemo. One of the many side effects is losing your hair. It will grow back now that I’ve finished chemo.’ She ran her hand over her smooth head.

  So her baldness was a symptom of her illness. He didn’t quite understand how that could be. He knew of no disease that removed hair like that. He didn’t understand this ‘chemo’, even when she’d explained it to him.

  Cancer. He knew that term. But it had always been spoken of in hushed terms, almost as if it were offensive to contract such a disease. He couldn’t remember anyone he knew having it, but it was a death sentence; that much he did know. His heart felt as if a fist was tightening around it. She couldn’t be dying.

  He had the strongest urge to reach out and stroke her bare scalp, to comfort her and to feel what it was like. It reminded him of a marble statue.

  Before he realised that he’d taken action and saw his hand slide over her head. It did feel like marble but it wasn’t cold. Her skin was warm and smooth.

  It was getting easier and easier to differentiate the subtle signals he got from touching her. As long as he didn’t touch himself and remember what sensations should feel like, he could almost believe these limited sensations were normal.

  She closed her eyes and moved her head like a cat enjoying being petted. He let his fingers trail down to her neck and then back up to her ear. He caressed the lobe. Then he cupped the side of her head in the palm of his hand.

  ‘I thought I’d never see you again,’ she said softly on an out breath, her eyes still closed. ‘Nobody but me has talked to you or touched you… Marnie says…’ She stopped in exactly the same place she had before. What had that little girl said?

  ‘Tell me,’ he coaxed as he brought his left hand up to cup the other side of her face. He used his thumb to stroke her moist lips.

  ‘That seeing you means death.’

  He pulled away from her and stepped back. ‘What are you talking about? I am not a murderer.’

  ‘No. Of course you aren’t. It’s just that the only time people see you is just before they die, so I guess it’s my time. That’s okay. I’m ready. I don’t really have much left to live for anyway.’

  ‘No! Do not say such a thing. You are so young and beautiful. You cannot die. Seeing me will not mean you die. I will go…’

  She grasped his hands before he could do as he suggested. ‘No, please. Don’t go. It won’t make any difference now. I’ve seen you. Please, don’t leave me…’

  The desperation in her voice was more than he could bear. Without thought, he gathered her into his arms and held her there against his chest. That strange explosion was ignited in the area of his heart again. Sh
e flinched.

  ‘Did you feel that?’ he asked cautiously.

  ‘Yes. It felt like an electric shock, but nicer.’ Her voice was muffled against his jacket.

  ‘I’m not going to let you die…’ He gave a bark of laughter. ‘I don’t even know your name.’

  ‘Cassie. Cassandra Grant.’

  ‘Cassandra. The oracle who was never believed. And on this one prediction, I will not believe you either. You are not going to die, not any time soon. I will protect you, Cassie.’

  She rested in his arms like an injured bird. ‘How can you do that? You can’t even turn a doorknob. Nobody can see you but me. It’s okay, Hawk. Maybe if you’re here with me when I die, we can… Maybe that’s what Marnie meant.’

  ‘You talk in riddles, woman. What did Marnie say, other than seeing me means your death?’

  ‘That maybe the fact that it’s different for me means you’ve been waiting for me… That it wasn’t this house that called to you; I did… somehow. Silly, I know.’

  He drew her back so he could meet her gaze and read her feelings there, but she kept her gaze cast downward, embarrassed or shy.

  ‘Look at me, Cassie,’ he said, his voice filled with emotion he could barely contain.

  Her big blue eyes opened and she looked directly at him. What he saw there robbed him of air for several long seconds. She wanted him. The fire there was plain to see, and it only made her more beautiful.

  ‘I think Marnie is right. I feel like I have been waiting for you… but not so that you can die. Not because you are going to die. Do you understand me, Cassie? I will not let you die.’

  She smiled just a little. ‘Okay. I believe you. Will you stay with me? Don’t go away again. Next time, you might forget…’

  ‘I will not forget you. And yes, I will stay with you as long as you want me.’ He leaned down and kissed her lips. They tasted slightly of almonds and honey and the connection left him breathless and overwhelmed. There was nothing muted about his emotional reaction to her.