‘That doesn’t even make sense.’
‘I will put it simply for you. Life is varied; some people have a fate, other people don’t. Your fate was to die that day, but you were saved.’ She spoke the way a school teacher would to a child, ‘When you were pulled out the way of the car, you were
physically
saved, but you
spiritually
died. You are displaced, Juliet. Your soul is in the Otherworld but your body is here.’
Dumfounded, she didn’t reply. She reminded herself that she was an educated woman, she owned a café, she was business-minded, fairly successful, and that there was a real world where none of this poppycock existed. And on that conclusion, Juliet reached into her pocket, took forty pounds out of her purse, and passed it to the ‘witch’.
‘Here’s your money. Thank you for the theatrics, but I have real things I need to get back to.’ She turned to leave.
‘No wait, Juliet, listen please. You are seeing spirits and ghosts because you are anchored in two worlds. The Spiritworld lies in between ours and the Otherworld. Because you are in both you can see what’s in between. If you heard a spirit say
help me
, like you said you did, then you’re not in danger. It wants your help and won’t leave you alone until it gets it.’
Realising Tamara hadn’t changed the record, Juliet continued on her exit. She opened the front door, but before walking out she heard Tamara shout to her, ‘Halloween will be a vulnerable day for you. The Spiritworld can be unpredictable that day. Be prepar …’ Juliet slammed the door. The wooden bang rolled through the tiny hamlet, an anomaly in the tranquil setting.
At the risk of looking insane, Juliet laughed to herself, walking doggedly back to the bus stop.
What a waste of time
. She’d never heard anything so ridiculous in her life.
My
fate to die. Yeah, right, so why I am alive?
The Willow bus stop didn’t even warrant a shelter from the rain, so all Juliet could do was stand there getting wetter and colder. Once the bus arrived and she was settled on-board, she pulled out her mobile to search the internet for inspiration on new décor for the café. Maybe this way the whole journey wouldn’t be a complete waste of time.
She was annoyed to be soaking wet, and wished that she’d slammed the medium’s front door a bit harder.
That’s childish. It doesn’t matter anymore. She’s just a crazy old woman.
A few wallpaper designs piqued her interest, so she ‘bookmarked’ the website pages on her mobile web browser. Afterwards, she texted Kim to apologise again for cancelling on Friday.
Feeling welcomed back to the real world, she went through a mental checklist of some to-dos for the café for the remainder of the journey.
The night was spent making paella for dinner and then later she relaxed in the bath with a bottle of wine. It was what she’d needed all along; a simple bit of relaxation to calm her panicked mind after the near-death experience. Not a load of voodoo garbage and ghost talk. It was normal to have nightmares or hallucinations after a stressful experience. But it
wasn’t
normal to think that ‘spirits’ were seeking your help.
Okay, that’s that figured out. I can forget this whole embarrassing episode and never bring it up again, ever.
Reassurance of mind equalled an easy sleep that night.
Chapter 5
Thursday was here and it had been a busy week at Creaky Crystals. Nick was only contracted twelve hours, but Mora had given him overtime due to the Halloween buzz. Overtime was always welcome, but he had every Thursday down as not-flexible-to-work, and Mora knew that he saw Caroline that day.
The morning drizzled. Nick stood watching faint raindrops meet a formed puddle on the garden patio. He smiled from inside the kitchen, a big grin that stretched over his face. To others the weather might have seemed gloomy, but he loved the way that light rain hushed the world. The air was fresh, the sky practically colourless, and everything simple.
Taking his time, he put on some rainwear and stepped out onto the patio. The sycamores in the back garden were like the ones in the front. They were almost leafless, only a few of the strong-willed hanging on. Looking up at the towering trees, Nick remembered why he loved them. He adored the star-shaped leaves that reminded him of the animated 1988 film, one of his childhood favourites,
The Land Before Time.
Whatever the season, they were intensely colourful; red, brown, yellow, green. Also, the winged sycamore seeds were a joy as a youngster; he’d throw them in the air and watch them spiral down, mimicking the dramatic way a helicopter would crash in a film.
Nick purposefully drew in a deep breath, cherishing the smell of autumn. Along with spring, it was favourite season. The smell was mellowed with the crisp air of the rain, but nevertheless a pleasure to his senses.
After dawdling back inside the bungalow, he got ready for his appointment with Caroline.
No premonitions had come his way since the first one. And those painful flashes, well, he didn’t know what to think about them, but he was sure it was only a matter of time or practice before he gained control of his ability. He refused to believe it was just a random blip. A voice inside him insisted it meant
something
more
.
It must.
Thinking on it longer, he remembered a story his mum had told him when he was younger. She’d said that her mother, Nick’s grandmother, had had a dream only a couple of weeks before she passed on.
In her dream she supposedly saw how she was going to die. She was already taken ill, but apparently she foresaw exactly when and how it would happen. Parents told their kids exaggerated stories all the time, so there was no reason for Nick to believe it. Also, his gran was on a lot of medication; she might not have been ‘all there’ in her mind. But maybe there was some truth to it. He wished he could ask his mum.
His grandmother had died while his mother was pregnant carrying him. Some people believed trauma during pregnancy could result in the baby having a birthmark. Whether that was true or not, Nick sure did have a mark. It was a humble light-brown oval on his left side, roughly six inches below the armpit and towards the bottom of his ribcage. His mother used to tell him that it was his gran’s way of living on.
As a birthmark?!
When he arrived at the surgery, and Caroline let him into the session room, he was full of vigour.
‘Hello, Caroline!’ He beamed at her.
‘Well, hello, Nicolas,’ she replied with appropriate reciprocation. She gestured for him to take a seat, and he did, sitting up straight and smiling. For a second, Caroline looked almost awkward on how to proceed.
‘You look very happy,’ she said simply.
‘I am. It’s been a good week, Halloween is approaching, and I love this time of year.’
‘It shows. Have there been any changes this week?’
He thought for a moment, realising that Caroline might feel a bit blustered by his sudden joy.
‘I saved a woman last Friday. Did you hear about the car chase? The driver went through the upper grounds while I was on my way to work, and I pulled a woman out the way of the vehicle just as it was about to hit her.’
‘I did see about it on the news, but they didn’t mention that part.’ Her response was calm.
Nick remembered what he’d concealed from the police. ‘The woman seemed scared and she ran off before the police arrived, so they didn’t know about it.’
Caroline simply nodded. So Nick continued.
‘But anyway. I’ve been in a good mood since. I’ve never done anything like that before. The woman didn’t stop to say thank you or anything, but I feel good that I saved her life, even if no one else knows about it.’ Rambling, he forgot to breathe and had to stop.
‘I bet it’s a nice feeling?’ she explored.
‘It is. It’s like nothing else.’
The real thing on his mind was the premonition but there was no way he was going to mention that. He doubted that she would, but he didn’t want to risk the chance of his therapist thinking he was crazy, rather than
just
someone who got depressed from time to time.
I’d end up attending these sessions forever …
‘It’s nice seeing you smile,’ she said, and smiled back at him.
‘It feels good.’
‘We spoke about confronting your father last time. About the awkwardness you feel around him … and whether it was worth talking to him about it.’
At mention of his dad, his chest tightened with a slight drop in mood, but not for long. ‘It doesn’t seem as pressing this week as it did last session,’ he told her. ‘I’m going over my dad’s this weekend or maybe next weekend, so I’ll see what it’s like.’
Caroline smiled again and waited. In his elevated mood, Nick realised that he’d been gesticulating like a mad man. He let out a breath that portrayed: ‘Okay, I’m calm and centred now.’
The remainder of the appointment was pleasant, transforming from a therapy session with a sense of direction into a genial chit-chat. Caroline probably thought it was okay to natter, seeing as one, she was being paid for it, two, Nick felt happy, and three, he’d explored his thoughts and feelings a fair amount. Wasn’t that the end goal of seeing a therapist?
When he returned home, he spent the afternoon and evening in the snug. Books he’d read throughout the week were scattered across the room, making it look like the dwelling of an untidy bibliophile.
He picked one up and began reading. His brain was crammed with mythology and he’d grown bored of books on psychic powers, after practicing all of what they’d said to no avail. What he picked up now was a novel he’d been meaning to get around to:
Carrie
by Stephen King. Yeah, it was about a girl with a psychic gift, telekinesis, but that wasn’t why he chose it. At least, not
the only
reason.
Concentration wasn’t on his side. He read almost half the book in one sitting but failed to grasp much of the story.
What’s the matter with me?
Although he felt happy, his mind seemed to want to be somewhere else.
It was getting late. Feeling stupid about reading in some kind of zombie trance, Nick had a snack then went to bed.
Sleep didn’t come. His mind squirmed about, active, and he felt a strong need to tell someone about the premonition. But who could he tell?
Fin.
Fin was Nick’s best friend, and even though they didn’t see each other much nowadays, he was sure Fin would spare some time for him. Fin’s full name was actually Fintan Evergreen.
Ha!
But he went by the shortened version.
Nick could also tell Alex Campbell, but there would always be that divide between them. They were friends but no longer best friends. He couldn’t trust Alex. At least not the way he trusted Fin.
The computer took some time to load, and then Nick signed into his
Facebook
profile
.
He was embarrassed to see there were ‘Happy birthday’ comments at the top of his profile, even though it was nine months ago. Most posts were from people he didn’t even know. The only other recent notifications were game requests and event invites from yet more people he wasn’t familiar with.
I’m so popular it hurts,
he thought, then had to laugh at himself.
He clicked on Messages, New Message, then typed:
Hey Fin, how are you?
I haven’t seen you in ages. I miss you! Did you want to come over sometime soon and just hang out?
Watch some crappy films and play
Xbox
like we used to? We can order some junk food and stuff and talk about old times?
I hope you’re doing well.
A click on send, and that was that. Sleep came easier with the prospect of having someone to share his secret with.
*
Deirdre’s was a quiet café in Amiton, out of the way and down a small street with a few gift stores and barbershop. It was the kind of place that could only be found by people who already knew it was there.
Mora had put Nick’s lunch break at the same time as hers on Friday, so they went to Deirdre’s together. She’d left Janet Morgan in charge of the store for the hour, with the help of Michael and another colleague named Alan.
‘So, Nicolas, spill the beans,’ she said, after she ordered them both cheese and tomato toasties and a pot of tea.
He was taken aback; what did she expect from him?
‘Spill the beans on what?’
‘You’ve been grinning all week … it’s not like you.’
‘Ha, thanks Mora. I didn’t realise that I’m usually
such
a grump.’
‘No, you’re not a grump, but it’s easy to see that you’re happier than usual. Your whole vibe is different.’
What does that even mean?
He hadn’t realised he was giving off a vibe.
I better stay alert and try not to revert back to the grump-vibe.
When he didn’t reply, Mora continued with her assault.
‘It’s a woman, isn’t it?’
‘Oh, Mora! Not you as well? Janet’s been bugging me all week, saying I need a woman, blah, blah, blah.’
‘I’m not saying that, I’m just asking.’ She laughed at his over-the-top reaction. Their order was brought to the table by a woman with curly auburn hair, and they both smiled and thanked the lady.
Deirdre’s, like the rest of Amiton, was decorated for Halloween. A hanging skeleton was at the window, posed to greet customers, and a row of ominous pumpkin-faces were huddled below. Creeping up the walls were black vines, and splatted in the corners of the ceiling were streaked white cobwebs. The tables were draped with transparent cloth, each torn and decrepit.
It was warm inside, with an intermittent draft from customers entering or leaving.
Mora didn’t ask questions while they ate but she regularly smiled at Nick and looked at him with suspicious green eyes, as if to say, ‘What are you like, eh?’
After they’d eaten their toasties, they sipped tea and continued the conversation.