Paralysis Paradox (Time Travel Through Past Lives Adventure Series Book 1) (18 page)

He turned his face back to the military-grey TV set. I watched him intently for a few seconds, hoping to spot a tear, some evidence of a regretful life. There would be no tear, but there was a sadness that filled the room, something ominous and shared. Was the collapse of a civilisation such a bad thing? Didn’t new ones rise? This old man looked like he had been twisted by all the pain that he kept locked inside him. I concluded that he was scared that if the population of our great and glorious Soviet Union, that crossed all around the globe, linking Europe, to Asia and to North America knew about this weapon, they would do whatever it took to encourage us to surrender. Surrender was the logical course to take, if the odds had become that dire. I said none of this.

My father then passed the paper to Konrad and
whispered
to him as he pointed at it again. I hadn’t seen Dad for four weeks; the first phone call I got from him on my mobile was to tell me about a fatality, and he was still more interested in talking to a senile old pervert than his own daughter. I’d eaten my breakfast and my cup of tea was cold. Time to leave.

‘So Dad, does Jane still work here?’ I asked pointedly.

‘Who?’ he asked.

I was surprised that he couldn’t remember her, considering the fuss he’d made before about the staff not being ‘our’ staff. My father seemed more aloof than usual, not even looking up from his paper.

‘Think I’m going to go and talk to her, am I excused?’ I asked, intentionally directing my question at Vera. Why ask someone something, when they couldn’t even care to look at you? Although it was Dad who answered.

‘Very well, dear, but before you go, I think Konrad has a question for you.’

Konrad hesitated, as if my father had put him on the spot. I tapped my foot impatiently and wondered just how much time this old creep had left. He reached over the table and, leaning forward, passed me the paper. I noticed a small black square on top of his head that was protruding out. I could not resist the chance to ask him something first.

‘What’s that on the top of your head?’

‘Vicky, you do not—’ started Vera indignantly, but Dad interrupted her.

‘Vera, it is a valid question!’

She blushed visibly as I sang and danced inside, but my attention was drawn to Konrad, who slumped back in his chair, tapping the side of his coffee mug.

‘
You tell me
, child,’ he said.

‘I have no idea. It looks like metal, or black plastic maybe?’

‘Plastic! There was no actual plastic in 1916. Still no idea what caused it?’

‘No,’ I said simply, looking away from his lingering stare.

Dad interrupted. ‘Read the article, chick, it’s
on smallpox
; we’d like to know what you think.’

I looked down and began to read, all the time feeling three pairs of eyes burning into me. I read it as fast as I could, but I knew my father liked detail, so not knowing if I was about to be tested, I was careful to not skip any.

‘Well, it’s about extremists using smallpox as a biological attack at Crossroads in Cape Town.’ I read on. ‘Apparently it spread rapidly due to poor sanitation before it was picked up.’

‘Yes, yes, and what do you think about that?’ asked Konrad impatiently.

‘It’s so sad! Twenty have died already, and they reckon hundreds more will die yet,’ I said, knowing that he wanted me to pick up the discussion we’d had on this before.

‘
Is that all
?’

‘I’m not going to say you were right before; just because some stupid nutters think they can use a disease as a weapon doesn’t mean we should. Does it, Dad?’

‘I think I brought you up to know right from wrong, and I love how the world looks though the eyes of a child.’ Dad was smiling.

‘Oh come on, Milo, she’s hardly a child!’ interjected the old creep.

‘No?’ Dad said sharply, momentarily holding a frightful stare with Konrad. ‘Child or not, I was going to say that I do have to disagree with you, Vicky. We must do whatever it takes to defend our state, I’m afraid!’

Konrad looked smug. I could sense the tension between them. Andreas had told me Dad had left Austria because of him, yet they still agreed over this. Wasn’t Dad meant to be a doctor who saves lives? But before I could answer, Konrad rubbed the top of his head.

‘It’s
gun metal
—gun metal from a British gun. Your father says that it goes in so deep that to remove it could cause more damage, so I’ve lived with it all this time.’

‘I assume his was a second opinion, you didn’t just wait fifty years or so?’ Now he looked confused. ‘I mean, my father wasn’t even born in 1916,’ I pointed out.

‘Um, well no.’

Vera was smiling, which was a shame. I didn’t want to be on the same side as her in any discussion. I wondered where he’d got this wound, and it occurred to me that he might have been in Afghanistan, like the Mad Hatter. They must have been a similar age.

‘Did you ever serve in Afghanistan?’ I asked.

‘Austria had no conflict with Afghanistan then. I got this before the
First Revolution
; our war over there is recent,’ he replied, shaking his head.

‘And you’ll be glad to know that Andreas isn’t there now either,’ my father added. ‘He managed to get himself a promotion and a posting in Akrotiri, Cyprus. A little closer to home, at least, and much safer.’

This breakfast was becoming so bizarre, such strange questions. And I was totally confused about Afghanistan and who was fighting them and when, although the mention of Andreas’ name made me feel a little warm. The information on his posting was not news to me, though. He had called my mobile from the base several times. Apparently he could not call from the front lines, which made sense. I wondered how much he knew about the history of Afghanistan? I would have to make some more late night trips into the school library and read up on it.

‘So my shrapnel wound is news to you?’ Konrad persisted in interrupting my thoughts.

Oh get over yourself; I’m not interested in your wound, your pain, and your creepy, damaged brain.
‘Well, yes.’

‘And the article makes you sad?’ verified my father.

‘It is sad, yes!’ I said, exasperated as I closed it and noted it was
The Daily Herald
. ‘Sad that the paper thinks that we are stupid enough to believe stuff that is clearly made up so that they can justify keeping smallpox!’

‘That’s an insightful point of view. So you can’t ever remember having smallpox then?’ asked Konrad. ‘And I suppose it would be stupid to presume that you have any idea what your father whispered to me when he passed me the article?’

I pushed back in my own chair, leaning way back so it balanced on its rear legs. I knew Vera hated that, so I did it to stop her smiling. I stared at these three people, who all looked at me expectantly.

‘Is this a test? The article said that until last week, there had not been a case for nearly
twenty years
! And how could I possibly know whatever it is that you whisper about? Can I go and see Jane now please?’

Dad nodded and I leapt up. As I stomped out I heard Konrad mutter to himself, ‘How
can she not know
?’

I turned the corner out of the dining room and walked quite literally into Tom.

‘Miss Vicky, glad I found you. I wondered if we could go for a drive?’

I was a little shocked to find him so close to the door and could not help but wonder if he had been eavesdropping.

‘Yes,’ I replied, gathering my thoughts, ‘but I need to go and see Jane first.’

‘Of course. I’ll be in the courtyard when you’re ready.’

I had felt some sort of empathy with Jane before. She’d probably not given me another thought, but her demeanour reminded me of how I was at school. Awkward, scared, and longing to be somewhere else. Maybe that was how I actually felt all the time and in every life. Either way, the feeling was so familiar to me and resonated so deeply that I had been wondering how she was. I also wanted to ask her whom she had called from my mobile on the day I’d returned to school, but needed to get to know her better first. I entered the servants’ quarters.

‘Hi Mrs Blake, do you know where Jane is?’

Without looking up from her casserole pot, the housekeeper replied, ‘She will be picking white roses for tomorrow or collecting ice, I suppose.’

‘Thanks!’ I called as I ran off.

Moments later, I was heading out of the French windows behind the billiard room and into the statuette patio, weaving around the statues and past the emptied swimming pool. The Victorian rose garden lay below me. The sky was grey, and I spotted a tall cloud in the distance that looked distinctly anvil shaped. Whilst on my journey across the Briton Sea, traversing the sea that kept England from the rest of Europe, Adwoliu had taught me that such top-heavy clouds would eventually collapse into a storm. There was no one in the rose garden, so I ran straight back through the billiard room, the hallway, and into the courtyard. Tom was waiting by one of the BMWs, and I called to him that I was still searching for Jane. At last I reached the icehouse. The metal door was ajar.

Peering in, I spied Jane leaning across the ice and using the scoop to fill an old wooden bucket. The scene disconcerted me a little, as it would have fit perfectly in both my Charlie and Richard lives. For a second I had to think who and where I was, until my purpose for being here came back to me.

‘Hi Jane, how are you?’ I asked, trying not to make her jump.

She did jump, but recovered herself quite well. It was funny; I knew before I spoke that she’d jump. Part of me just wanted to grab her and give her a big hug. I didn’t do that, of course, as I knew it would disquiet her even more.

Jane finished scraping the surface of the ice and stood facing me. ‘I am well, thank you, Miss Vicky. And yourself?’

‘As well as can be expected, I suppose.’

‘Oh, you mean ’cause of poor Master Frankie?’

‘Yes.’ I paused, and then plunged on. ‘How did he die, do you know?’ I hoped I wasn’t being too direct. I was desperate to know, but none of the adults would talk to me about it.

‘He fell, they say.’

‘They say?’

‘Well, yes. That’s what they say, but I
can’t help
but wonder...Anyway, I’m very pleased to see you. How is school? Have you learnt much?’

‘What can’t you help, Jane?’ I persisted.

‘Oh, Miss Vicky, please stop! I’m not educated like you are. I’ve probably just not understood what happened.’

‘Come on, Jane, this isn’t about education! I’m sure you understand much better than you think you do. It’s like women’s intuition, isn’t it? Please tell me what you do know. A boy is dead, and no one wants to talk about it. My family are cretins! If you don’t tell me the truth, who will?’

She shuffled uneasily, and I noticed her glance at a bucket of dead rodents by the steps. ‘All right. The boy fell off a pylon in the woods. No one knows if he was electrocuted or died from falling. I guess either is just as bad.’

My eyes welled up and I blinked back the tears, unwilling to let Jane see me this way. Frankie was annoying, but he didn’t deserve to die before he could grow out of it! I thought of all the people in all my lives who died: my mother, my brother Alfred, Hodierna, Simone, Yvette, Dr Koestler, and now Frankie. And then there were the riflemen at Swanshurst, all those innocents in the vintner house, and the soldiers who had burnt them—not to mention those strange recurring flashes of people being wiped out, like ants underfoot and all those crew who fell out of the airship.

‘People die all the time!’ I turned to leave, surprised at how harsh I sounded.

I got to the third step up before my legs buckled. I fell on my knees and just managed to put my hands out in time to stop myself falling further forward, but they did not help hold back the tears. I started sobbing like a little child.

Jane knelt beside me, and I felt her comforting hand on my shoulder. ‘We should pray; I find it helps,’ she whispered.

‘I pray every day in Canterbury,’ I confided, ‘but here we could get arrested!’

I was talking of my Richard life. I considered that I should be more guarded, but I felt safe with this servant.

‘I won’t tell if you don’t,’

‘No, of course not,’ I said, wiping away my tears. ‘I would like that.’

‘We shall pray for Frankie’s soul.’

‘Yes, and for Yvette’s and my mother’s too,’ I hesitated, ‘and Henry, for his safe return.’

‘I’ve no idea how you travel to Canterbury, nor do I know all those people, but close your eyes and pray.’

We knelt down together, shoulder to shoulder. I stayed like that for quite a few minutes, noticing how part of me was growing colder down in this ice house, but Jane’s presence warmed me somehow. I thought back to when I had seen Yvette, Alfred, and my mother on that bridge. As vivid as anything in any life. At last I opened my eyes again and looked at her.

‘At Christmas, when I came into your room, had you been praying then?’ I asked.