What You Wish For (4 page)

I wasn’t convinced, but I nodded thoughtfully. I stroked her fingers as she spoke. I realise that it might seem like I was being cynical in more than one way. That I was humouring her because I wanted to get into her knickers. But it was more than that. I liked her. I liked that she believed in something. I spent my life surrounded by nihilists and irony. It was refreshing to meet someone who wasn’t like that.

She went on. ‘The visitors themselves are usually one of two types.’ She smiled. ‘They used to be described as tall and beautiful with long blond hair. This was back in the fifties and sixties. They’re usually known as the Nordic type. But the Nordics have mostly been replaced now by the Greys. They have large, egg-shaped heads, big almond-shaped eyes, tiny noses and mouths, and grey skin.’

I looked around the room. Many of the cuttings on the walls showed artists’ impressions of Greys – it was a familiar image and again I thought that the reason everybody described aliens as such was because they were echoing all the others who’d gone before them.

‘We believe that Greys exist, as do many other types of extraterrestrials. We think the Greys come from a system that is relatively close to Earth and that the other extraterrestrials nominated the Greys as a kind of scout party, to see if we humans are worth inviting into the Chorus.’

‘The what?’

‘It’s a community of non-humans made up of intelligent species from different planets. We call it the Chorus.’

She sounded like she was quoting directly. ‘Like an alien club?’ I said.

‘More like a council. Or, I don’t know, like the UN or something.’

I laughed. ‘United Planets.’

‘Yes.’ She gave me her ‘don’t mock’ look and I adopted a straight face. ‘Andrew believes that the Chorus are monitoring us to see if we are worthy of joining them. This will lead to what we call a close encounter of the fifth kind. Which is where a select group of humans will be chosen as ambassadors, or emissaries, to join the Chorus in order to represent this planet. Eventually, if this group is successful in showing that we can make a positive contribution, the Chorus will reveal itself to the planet as a whole and the entire human race will be invited to join.’

I laughed again. ‘It sounds like joining the European Union. Will there be a single currency? Will we be able to opt out?’ Another look. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s all right.’ She looked sad as she looked up at me. ‘So now you think I’m a complete nutter and you’re never going to want to see me again. I guess I don’t blame you.’

I took her hand. ‘Don’t be silly. It doesn’t bother me at all. If you were a neo-Nazi or believed that you were a vampire or something, then I would be put off, but believing in aliens . . .’ I shrugged. ‘I really like you, Marie. I think you’re beautiful and . . . different. That’s
why
I like you.’

She leaned into me and kissed me again. We lay down on her bed and I kissed her neck and face, and she put her hands inside my shirt and touched my skin. I closed my eyes and inhaled her, the sensation of a body against mine. I had forgotten how good it felt. Outside, the sun went down and the room darkened. I pushed up Marie’s T-shirt and kissed her belly. She sighed, but when I moved to unbutton her jeans she said, ‘Not yet.’

Warm in the fading light, I kissed her and smiled. I forgot all about aliens and UFOs and intergalactic councils. This was here, this was now, and this was real. For the first time since I could remember, I was happy.

5

‘Move in with me,’ I said, three weeks later.

She was naked beneath the quilt in my bedroom, warm and drowsy and beautiful, looking up at me with her hooded eyelids, her make-up smudged and hair tangled on the pillow.

‘It makes sense,’ I said. ‘You won’t have to worry about rent or being evicted. And I want you to live with me. I love you. I want you in my home. I want you in my bed every night.’ I kissed her.

‘I’m in it every night anyway.’

It was far too soon to ask someone to move in with you. But I didn’t care. I was smitten. No, more than that. I felt
possessed
, as if some spirit had got inside me and was running around my body, bumping into my heart, spinning in my stomach, filling me up with energy. I felt half delirious. Marie, Marie, Marie. I whispered her name to myself as I walked down the street or drove my car. I breathed in and could smell her, her scent in my nostrils, like she was a perfume that I wore on my skin. I could taste her on my tongue, feel her imprint on my body. I couldn’t concentrate on my work; I drove Simon mad by repeatedly breaking off in mid-sentence and smiling secretively, some memory of Marie rising up and making rational thought or conversation impossible. I must have been a nightmare to be around.

‘Well?’ I said to her. There was a pink flush across her collar bone. ‘Will you move in with me?’

‘I might . . .’

‘If?’

‘If you do what you just did to me again.’

I put my head under the quilt and she giggled.

One night, a little while after she’d moved in, I woke up and became aware that Marie was not lying beside me. I looked up. She was silhouetted against the window, holding the curtains aside and looking out at the night sky.

I pushed the quilt aside and stood up. She turned and smiled. I put my arm around her waist and said, ‘What are you doing?’

‘Listening,’ she said. ‘I’m listening for the voice.’

I gave her a quizzical look.

‘Do you know what brought Andrew and me together initially? It was because I told him I could hear the stars. It’s like a very high-pitched call, very faint, like a choir heard from a very great distance.’

‘Does it play tunes?’

She ignored my sarcasm, which slipped out occasionally. ‘It’s more abstract than that. It’s more like a voice than music. The voice of the Chorus. Andrew can hear it too. Of all the people we know here, we’re the only two who can hear it.’

It made me uncomfortable when she spoke like this. It was like listening to somebody who has embraced religion, who talks in awed tones about their god, a god that I could not believe in. It made me feel excluded, especially when she mentioned Andrew. I accepted her beliefs, and I was happy that she felt so passionately about something. But it wasn’t a faith we shared.

We stood and looked up for a few moments, her head resting on my shoulder. I ran the tip of a finger over her small, pale breasts, causing goose bumps to spring up on the surface of her skin. Her nipples hardened and I lowered my mouth to them. I wanted to distract her from the stars and their voice and make her concentrate on me. I moved my hand down her spine and pulled her against me. I led her to the bed and we fell among the rucked-up sheets and made love slowly with the starlight filling the room where she had left the curtains half-open.

I wonder if she could still hear the celestial voice as we made love. Did she listen to it as I moved inside her, as our pelvic bones pressed hard together, as she bit into my shoulder? Did the voices take on a higher pitch – did they reach a crescendo – when she came? Her eyes were closed and she wore a smile. I put that smile down to me – my body, our lovemaking – but maybe it was down to something else. Maybe she was smiling at the sound of the stars.

‘They’re coming closer,’ Andrew said, his voice coloured with
excitement
.

I passed him a glass of Coke. He had just got here and was sweating; the temperature outside was rising daily. The weathermen said that we were on the brink of a record-breaking heat wave, as the mercury in our thermometers crept into the mid-thirties.

Marie sat beside him on the sofa while I sat on the floor cushion. She was almost bouncing up and down with excitement. This was one of the things I loved about her: her child-like enthusiasm.

‘We’re getting so many reports of UFO sightings at the moment,’ Andrew continued, addressing me. ‘All over Sussex and Kent. It’s pretty much unprecedented in this area. This morning alone I had six reports of sightings in a forty-mile radius, including a sighting by a police officer. You can probably write half of them off as mis-sightings – where people have seen planes or balloons or natural phenomena – but not all of them. There’s a real buzz in the ufology community at the moment.’

He smiled and pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose. He looked at Marie, who leant forward, listening keenly. ‘And it’s not just UFO sightings either. We’re getting a lot of reports of abductions. A man in Tunbridge Wells has contacted me. He says he was taken aboard a craft and he can remember them carrying out some medical procedure on him. He’s going to see a hypnotist to try to remember the rest. Plus there have been loads of reports of crop circles, especially over towards Ashford. Do you know a village called Wye? There’s a big agricultural college there. Anyway, there have been a load of crop circles appearing. Marie and I are going to go over there this weekend and check it out.’

He paused to sip his Coke. Crop circles. I hadn’t heard anyone mention them for years.

I said, ‘So this girl you’ve got coming here tonight, she’s had an abduction experience?’

Andrew nodded.

Marie looked over at me with her big eyes. ‘You don’t mind her coming here, do you?’

‘Of course not. I don’t mind who you have here. It’s your home too now, Marie.’

‘I do appreciate this,’ Andrew said.

‘Like I said, it doesn’t bother me.’

Marie and I had been living together for a few weeks now. During the day, while I went to work, Marie sat at home and communicated with her fellow believers. When I got home from work she would usually be a little stir crazy, and we would take a bottle of wine into the garden. As it got dark, Marie would point out the constellations, teaching me their names. She had planted an assortment of flowers in the beds that I’d completely neglected since moving in. She talked and sang to them as she watered and tended to them.

‘You think I’m nuts, don’t you?’ she said one night as I stood watching her.

‘I prefer “kooky”,’ I replied.

‘Cuckoo?’ She did a cartwheel across the lawn, singing
I’m a Cuckoo
, a song by a band she listened to all the time.

‘A kooky cuckoo.’ I shook my head. I knew some people might find Marie’s behaviour irritating, but she was so guileless and unbothered by what people thought of her . . . I wished I could be more like her.

Now, Andrew stood up and looked out of the front window. ‘She should be here any minute.’

‘Do you want me to make myself scarce when she arrives?’ I asked.

I was sure Andrew was about to say yes but Marie shook her head. ‘Of course not. You might find it interesting.’ She came and sat beside me, kissing me quickly and winking.

‘I feel like an outsider when Andrew’s around,’ I had confessed a few days before.

‘Maybe you could become more involved,’ she had said. I thought about it. ‘Maybe.’ But how could I get involved if I didn’t believe?

‘She’s here,’ Andrew said now. He went to the front door and opened it. I took the opportunity to kiss Marie, and then Andrew led a dark-haired girl into the room.

‘This is Sally,’ he said.

Sally was about twenty-five, skinny with short black hair that needed a wash. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. She looked scared. She made me think of one of those wild children that they sometimes find in the woods in films, raised by wolves, unused to human company; or a beaten dog. She trembled and almost spilled the glass of Coke I handed her.

Marie sat beside her on the sofa. ‘Hi, I’m Marie.’

Sally looked around her. She refused to make eye contact with any of us. She said, ‘Will you be able to help me? Will you?’

‘We’ll try,’ Marie said in a soothing tone.

Andrew and Marie sat either side of the woman.

Marie said, ‘We want to help you understand what happened to you. We should be able to answer some of your questions. We’ve spoken to a lot of people who’ve had similar experiences.’

Sally nodded, her fringe falling into her eyes. ‘It’s such a relief to find somebody who believes me. Who doesn’t think I’m mad.’

‘Why don’t you talk us through it?’ Marie coaxed, her voice gentle. She seemed more mature; kind and trustworthy.
She would make a good journalist
, I thought.

Sally drained the glass of Coke in one go. I thought she was going to throw it back up. She took a few deep breaths and
swallowed
.

‘I’ve been trying to get pregnant for ages. My boyfriend John and I – we really want kids, you know? I’ve
always
wanted kids. I had a miscarriage a couple of years ago and since then we’ve been trying . . . We weren’t having any luck and everyone said we were trying too hard, that we should relax and let it happen. I became convinced I was infertile. I was so unhappy. But then, this Easter, I fell pregnant. At last.’ A smile flitted across her face then slipped away. ‘I was so happy, you know? This was what I’d always wanted, and the doctor said that as long as I was careful I’d be all right.’

She put her empty glass down.

‘Go on,’ Marie said gently.

Tears slid down Sally’s cheeks, thin trails that made me look away, self-conscious. This woman was a stranger, opening wounds and her heart to us. It didn’t feel right.

She went on quickly, before she lost her nerve. ‘Then it happened. I was in bed. John was asleep. We’d had a bit of an argument. John wanted to make love. I said no because I didn’t want to risk harming the baby.

‘I fell asleep and then about an hour later I woke up. It was just after midnight. I closed my eyes to try to get back to sleep and then I had this weird urge to open them again. But along with the urge there was, like, something telling me
not
to open them. It sounds really weird, I know. Anyway, the urge to open my eyes was stronger, and when I did I saw small grey figures standing at the end of the bed.’

Andrew leaned forward.

‘I didn’t feel scared. I felt . . . calm, like I was detached from myself. I couldn’t really make the figures out properly because it was dark. I wanted to see them better, so I pushed the quilt down and as I did this a beam of light came through the window. It was really bright, white but with a blue edge, and suddenly I felt scared. I nudged John, then shook him, but he wouldn’t wake up. I looked at the figures and said something like, “What do you want?” but they didn’t answer.’

She wiped the tears from her cheeks with the palm of her hand. ‘Then I felt myself lifting up off of the bed, floating. I screamed John’s name but he still wouldn’t wake up. And then I started floating towards the window. I couldn’t see the figures any more. I had my hands on my belly, like I was instinctively trying to protect my baby . . .’

Her words tumbled out faster and faster. ‘I actually passed through the window – through the glass. It felt horrible. I can’t describe it. And then I kind of blanked out and when I woke up I was lying on a table in a brightly lit room. It was a metal table, cold on my back. I’d been wearing a nightie in bed but now I was naked. I tried to sit up but I couldn’t. I thought I’d been paralysed. I tried to wiggle my toes and, thank God, I could. I just couldn’t get up. I tried to look around. There was a grey metal door in front of me and a load of, like, controls on the ceiling. You know, switches and stuff. Flashing lights.’

‘What happened?’ Andrew said. His glasses had practically steamed up with excitement. I felt angry. I wanted to leave the room, but something compelled me to stay and listen.

‘The door slid open,’ Sally said, ‘and these little creatures came in. They were the ones who had been standing at the bottom of my bed. They had huge heads and little dwarfish bodies and great big black eyes. They were wearing what I suppose were uniforms. They scuttled around me and I tried to speak but my throat was so dry nothing would come out. They looked at me with their big eyes . . .’ She started to cry again, covering her face with her hands. Marie put her arm around her and stroked her hair. She offered Sally a tissue.