by M S C Barnes
Alice either, Seb noticed. He thought about calling to him but didn’t want to risk causing a delay if Dierne tried to contact them.
Nat emerged from the bathroom and, seeing him, smiled. “Morning. The bathroom’s free.”
“Morning.” He felt a twinge of embarrassment, knowing he must look a fright. He tried to smooth his hair down. Scarlet, also dressed, huffed at him to hurry up.
Shuffling into the bathroom, Seb tried to ignore the loachers sliding about in the cubicle tray as he showered, and then he stared at the stream of fairies that were flitting to and fro through the mirror, as if using it as a doorway. Dodging them he brushed his hair then wrapped a towel around himself and darted next door to get dressed. He cast a quick glance in Nat’s direction, hoping she wasn’t watching him; she was.
She mouthed, I need to speak to you, then looked over her shoulder at Mr White.
Seb dressed awkwardly and edged over to her.
Mr White suddenly jumped up. “It’s time for breakfast,” he drawled and walked out of the door. Scarlet and Aiden bounded after him. Seb waited for Nat.
“Are you okay?” he whispered.
She shook her head. “Last night—” she started, but Mr White stuck his head back through the doorway.
“Breakfast,” he said.
Mr White and The Caretaker, who had prepared breakfast, gave them no opportunity to chat as they ate.
Seb, haunted by the image of that charred line on Mr Duir’s palm, had no appetite.
“Is Mr Duir okay?” he asked.
“Thank you, Seb. I am fine.” Mr Duir said, stepping over the threshold from the lounge. He certainly looked fine. His eyes had their typical sparkle and he stood upright and steady. Seb found his own eyes drawn to The Head’s hand which he held close to his side. There was no sign of a bandage.
“Are you all done, Dom, Caretaker?” Mr West asked, following Mr Duir into the room. The Caretaker nodded and began clearing away. Seb hadn’t eaten, still too anxious.
“Morning, morning, everyone!” Heath boomed in a cheerful voice as he strode in. Are we all ready for today?” He beamed a big smile and clapped Mr Duir on the back. “Aelfric, Trudy and Zach are waiting.”
“Zach’s here? Won’t his mum wonder where he is?” Scarlet asked, finishing her toast.
“Trudy called on her early this morning and explained your circumstances and that Seb may need a friend around at this difficult time. Zach’s mother naturally agreed to his coming to stay for a day or two.” Mr West smiled a satisfied smile.
Seb again found himself concerned at how this whole situation was being manipulated by the teachers. Heath’s infectious gaiety and enthusiasm, however, seemed to breathe life into everyone.
“Come on, all – places to be!”
Mr West grabbed a slice of toast off a plate.
“I’ll get Lily,” he said and trotted off to the back door. After a moment his voice and Miss Angel’s muffled replies were heard. There was the slightest trickle of laughter. Can that be Miss Angel? How can she be so happy after last night? Seb thought as he followed the others into the lounge. In fact, none of them seem bothered at all. He tried to draw them on the subject.
“So, who is Braddock?” he asked.
None of the teachers or Heath responded. Mr West, along with Miss Angel, who munched on the slice of toast he had taken for her, walked in as The Caretaker entered from the kitchen and now Mr Duir moved over to the tapestry on the back wall and pulled it across, revealing a normal door in the jewel-speckled wall. Heath opened it and led them down a stairway, its stone steps so well used they were worn away at the centre. Fortunately their descent into the dank, narrow space was lit by flamers. At the bottom was a further door which Heath also opened and ushered everyone through.
Seb had mixed emotions. They were back in the large room they had met Heath in the night before. The fire was still burning and, seated on a cushion in front of it, drinking hot chocolate, was Zach, who grinned at them as they entered. Miss West sat next to him.
As they all took seats by the fire, Alice appeared in front of Seb in a blur of green.
He smiled. “Starting without me?”
“Well you’re the one who keeps disappearing!” Seb smiled back, trying to hide how pleased he was to see the Dryad.
“Alice, we missed you,” Nat said sweetly and a shy look crossed Alice’s features. “Can we speak privately to you again now?” she asked in a whisper.
“Yes. We’re all together now.” He sat between them.
Immediately Seb said to Alice, in his mind, “Could you ask Nat what she wanted to tell me.”
“Just a second, Seb,” Alice replied. “I’m being instructed by Dierne...”
Seb was frustrated, and turned to Nat, hoping to speak quietly with her as Alice flitted over to Dierne. Beyond her he could see Heath and Mr Duir. They looked tense. They were discussing something quietly and Mr Duir didn’t seem to agree with Heath about whatever it was. Seb noticed the large shape of Cue, flopped over by the back wall, still snuffling but less so than the night before.
He lost the opportunity to speak to Nat as Mr Duir called abruptly, “Dryads, if you could, please.”
Alice and Dierne whizzed up above the flames and began circling and spinning, as they had in the library, leaving their flight trails in the air to build a column.
“Torhtian nú!” Mr Duir said.
With a loud crack the column flattened; then the disc upended and began spinning. Within moments Seb was staring at an enormous mirrored screen suspended above the bright glow of the fire.
“Seb and Scarlet,” Mr Duir turned to them. “I apologise in advance for what you are about to see – it will be painful but it is necessary for you to see it. Firstly though, you must keep in mind the essence of the message from Friday: all souls come to this physical reality numerous times, encountering millions of other souls and having countless relationships with many of them …” he paused.
Seb got it, he thought – countless visits, souls interacting in different ways, learning, developing, going back to Áberan and returning to experience many different lifetimes, relationships, events.
“It is important you understand that fact.” Mr Duir, standing beside the spinning mirror, stared at Seb. “Nature’s laws dictate who and what we all will be.” He looked troubled. “Unless there is interference …”
An image appeared in the mirror: a car trundling along a busy road. The image changed to the vehicle’s interior and Seb heard Scarlet gasp. He felt a jolt himself as he recognised its occupants – their mother and father, chatting happily to each other. Seb felt a lump in his throat and the pain of loss he had not experienced in years.
“Seb, without understanding what has happened you will not be able to help put this right.”
Seb barely registered Mr Duir’s words. He was transfixed at the view through the front windscreen of the car. He saw a figure standing on the grass verge ahead. Beside him was a dog. His father and mother paid them no attention, but as the car approached the dog suddenly ran across the road and the owner charged after it. Seb watched in horror as his father yanked the steering wheel to the left. The vehicle swerved violently, his mother screamed and then went quiet as the vehicle slammed into a massive oak tree beside the road and her head struck the passenger door window. Seb’s father was thrown forward, the impact tremendous, and the airbag deployed. As the car came to a rest, his father, momentarily lucid, reached a hand towards his wife and then slipped into unconsciousness. Seb knew the rest. His father would not recover.
“Why are you making us watch this?” Scarlet shouted at Mr Duir, tears streaming down her face.
“Scarlet, it is what follows you need to see.” He looked almost as upset as Seb felt.
Miss Angel put an arm around Scarlet’s shoulders.
Fighting back tears, Seb forced himself to keep watching.
Stillness descended on the car. Minutes passed. There was no movement from either of their parents. T
he pedestrian who, with his dog, had caused the accident was nowhere in sight. Then the flashing of blue lights dappled the inside of the vehicle, intermittently reflecting off the still figures as emergency services arrived. Police and paramedics removed their mother from the car but the images focused on Seb’s father, slumped over the deflated airbag. A paramedic checked for breathing, a pulse, then, with a police officer’s help, pulled him quickly out of the vehicle.
The image of his father, lying on the grass, as the paramedic cut open his shirt and applied the pads of a defibrillator to his torso was ghastly to Seb. He watched as frantic efforts were made to revive him. They were witnessing, he knew, the moment of their father’s death. But now he felt a coldness grip his heart as he noticed a small trail of white mist lift away from his father’s chest. It swirled and twisted, separating itself fully from the body. The paramedic, apparently unaware of it, checked some readings and then knelt back, looked at her watch and spoke to the police officer beside her.
The white mist twirled quickly away from the figures on the roadside. The mirror panned across and now the white mist shot down towards the chest of the baby that a further paramedic was just lifting to show Seb’s tearful mother. At precisely the same moment, a second trail of mist came zooming along the A road towards them. Both white-mist trails struck the baby’s chest simultaneously and disappeared into its body.
Now Scarlet gasped again and Seb felt his own world tilt.
A fraction of a
