As much as I
still disliked Blod intensely most of the time, I felt rotten that
I could see into the places and know the things that she must have
been wondering alone in her room. I had visited Henri several times
already at the training camp but now that he was regimented we
couldn’t seem to get a single moment where there wasn’t someone
else in the room with him or, more usually, where he wasn’t
running, leaping or aiming to shoot at something with a beastly
drill sergeant screaming down his ear. I had come to know this
master of torture as Sergeant Cross and so far there hadn’t been a
single moment where his face didn’t suit his name. I was actually
starting to enjoy Doctor Bickerstaff’s company too, now that he was
a couple of hundred miles away, especially when he railed about
Cross and the abuse he was throwing at Henri on a daily basis.
“
He doesn’t like it because you’re foreign,” Bickerstaff said
one night as he lay on his simple bed looking up at the
ceiling.
“
The French are foreign and they’re dying for our cause,”
Henri murmured.
He was lying
on his side on the next bed, fumbling in a drawer for something
irately. I’d noticed the drop in his mood since he’d stopped being
able to speak to me. When he looked down into the drawer I looked
with him to see a brand new pad of paper and a pencil just as he
pulled them out of the darkness. Henri sat up to put the pad on his
lap.
What are you up to?
I
asked.
I felt him
smile for just a second, then he picked up the pencil and started
to scribble, focusing hard on the page.
I found a way
to talk to you.
The words lifted my heart.
You’re
brilliant
, I thought,
you’re just brilliant.
I know. So
are you.
“
What are you doing?” Bickerstaff asked.
Henri looked
up from the page for a moment to focus on him, but the doctor was
unbuttoning his shirt to get ready for bed so Henri looked away
again sharply, probably thinking more of what I’d be able to see
than of the other man’s privacy.
“
I’m writing a letter to Kit,” he lied expertly.
“
You’ve got it bad for that girl, haven’t you?” Bickerstaff
asked in a less than kind tone.
I felt Henri
grin. “I really do,” he answered. His cheeks were burning just a
little in the seconds after he’d said it out loud.
“
She’s trouble,” the doctor warned, but then I heard him let
out a sigh, “They’re all bloody trouble.”
“
You’d know better than me,” Henri retorted, chancing another
look at Bickerstaff. He had gotten into bed, but he continued to
gaze upwards and broke into a sad little smile at Henri’s words.
Henri gulped dryly before he spoke again. “You should write to her,
tell her how you feel.”
Bickerstaff
laughed a little. “The only thing that’s important is how Blod
feels, and she doesn’t feel the same way I do. That ship has very
much sailed, Henri. You’ll understand when you’re older that some
things just can’t be fixed, no matter how hard you try.”
She’s crying over him,
I told
Henri,
in her room, with the radio
blasting where she thinks we can’t hear her.
“
She kissed you goodbye,” Henri pressed, “Don’t tell me that
means nothing.”
Bickerstaff
turned his head, his eyes narrowing at Henri. “I think it’s time
you kept your advice to yourself,” he spat, his nasty side rearing
its ugly head. He turned over in the little bed and slammed his
head down on the thin pillow like a petulant schoolboy. Henri
sighed and went back to his pad of paper.
So much for
brothers in arms.
He’s as messed up as she is,
I
thought,
they deserve each other, no
mistake.
I’ll work on
him another time to write that letter. I think he’s tempted.
Do, or I’m
going to get hell here for months the way Blod’s going on. I want
to smash that radio to bits as it is.
Please don’t.
You are not famed for keeping your cool.
You’re a
cheeky devil on paper, you know.
Henri grinned
widely for just a moment before he went back to his usual
expression. He looked up into the bunk house full of beds that were
slowly filling with countless other young men. I knew that the
lights would go out soon, removing any chance of reading his page.
I waited, watching Henri stare at the paper, those familiar nerves
creeping into his spine. He tapped his pencil on the page a few
times like he was going to start writing, but then, very slowly, he
brought the nib around and drew a very faint heart instead.
***
Henri had just a fortnight of training before he’d be shipped
off to join the 7
th
Armoured Division trudging through the sand in
the African heat. I spent some time out by our tree trying to
convince myself that there was no need to worry about him, but the
season’s shift sent a cold breeze to numb my skin as if to tell me
that my warmest wishes were not enough to keep him safe. I pulled
my knitted cardigan tight around my shoulders, hugging my arms
around my body and wishing that Henri was there to hold me instead.
It was painful to think of his strong arms and warm kiss when I
could no longer reach them.
Whispers in
his head and scribbled words on paper were all I had now to keep me
sane. I knew full well what I’d be like if I didn’t have those at
least; the prime example of separation and grief was still stomping
around Ty Gwyn in her beautiful high heeled shoes. I shuddered in
the cold under the leafy canopy that rustled with the wind, but I
held fast to my promise. I had asked Blod to meet me out here and I
was certain that she’d give in to curiosity eventually. I heard her
disgruntled huffing for a long time before she came into proper
focus as she clomped across the field.
“
Mam says if we die of pneumonia she won’t be held
responsible,” Blod griped as she sat herself down beside me and
leant against the tree.
“
I can’t risk showing you this in the house,” I said, biting
my lip a little.
The Celtic
beauty’s interest was piqued, I could tell, though she continued to
scowl and narrow her eyes at the cold wind whipping up around us. I
steeled myself, taking a deep breath before I flung my hands out
and steeped my fingers to the bridge of my nose.
“
Okay,” I began, “This is going to sound complicated and
impossible, but what I’m going to tell you is true, and I can prove
it to you.”
Blod was
already judging me, her eyes shone with interest and a mocking sort
of amusement, like she was ready to pounce with every wicked jibe
she knew. I could feel my cheeks reddening before I’d even really
said anything, not a good sign, but I pressed on against my will
and my pride.
“
Henri and I aren’t related, not at all.”
“
Then how do you know him?” Blod demanded, slapping my arm a
little.
“
I found him… with my mind.” I tore myself away from Blod’s
face so I wouldn’t have to see the look she was bound to be giving
me. “I have, well, your Bampi calls them psychic
powers.”
The snort
that escaped Blod was both unladylike and extremely loud.
“
What a load of rubbish!” she exclaimed gleefully.
“
I can prove it,” I said quietly. Blod calmed a little and I
looked back in her laughing eyes. “I can step into your head; speak
to you in your mind.”
“
Oh yeah?” She folded her arms and set her mouth in a smirk
that reminded me of a certain doctor. “Go on then.”
So I did.
Without another word I put myself quickly into the right frame of
mind, slipping out of my consciousness and directly into hers. For
a moment she was still watching me, my skinny form hunched over and
wrapped in a cardigan with my hands over my eyes. She felt like she
was going to burst out laughing, prideful and fairly cruel.
Do you
believe me now?
All mirth and
mockery went flying out of Blod in the huge shriek that she gave.
She scrabbled away from me on the grass, gasping and watching me
carefully.
Check my lips,
I thought,
they aren’t moving. I’m in your head.
A fluttering
of panic gathered on Blod’s chest.
“
You can’t hear my thoughts, can you?” she asked
fearfully.
Fortunately
for both of us, no. But I can see through your eyes and feel your
emotions. Don’t panic so much. I can’t hurt you.
Blod took a
moment to gather a fair amount of oxygen back into her throbbing
lungs before she could think straight again. She did all the things
to test me that Henri had first tried, how many fingers behind her
back, what was she looking at, did she have her eyes open or shut.
It was all easy, and when she was as convinced as I could make her
I left her mind again and shook out my body against the numbing
cold of keeping still for so long.
“
So you can see Henri any time you want?” she asked. I didn’t
miss the bitter note in her tone. I nodded, trying not to smile
quite so happily. “How is he? What’s the place like?”
“
It’s all very hard and physical,” I explained, “He’s always
aching and tired. Bickerstaff says Africa will be much worse, but
frankly I don’t see how.”
Blod’s lip
dropped, her expression one of utter hurt. “Steven spoke to
you?”
“
No of course not,” I added apologetically, “He doesn’t have a
clue I’m there. But he speaks to Henri, when he’s not in a mood.” I
hesitated a moment, looking down at the dying autumn leaves under
my hands. “I think he misses you terribly.”
“
Did he actually say that?”
“
Well, no,” I mumbled. I felt Blod’s posture drop beside me.
“But it’s so obvious. He snaps at Henri like a bulldog when he even
mentions your name. He’s tormented.”
I saw a flash
of satisfaction come over Blod’s perfect features, but it soon
faded to leave her deep in thought again.
“
I can’t stand seeing you upset like this, thinking he doesn’t
care about you,” I rushed on, trying to get all the explanation out
before she could stop me, “But please don’t tell anyone about what
I can do. Mum says it could be very bad for me if people found
out.”
“
It’s not that I think he doesn’t care,” Blod said quietly, “I
know he cares.” She pulled her knees up to her jaw and rested on
them, hugging her flowing dress to her legs. “When he left the
other day, he gave me these papers. Bank papers, they were. He’s
sold his house and put all this money away, see? And if he dies out
there, Ness and I get the lot.”
“
I suppose that’s quite sensible,” I said, though I didn’t
believe that was the only reason Bickerstaff had turned in all his
worldly possessions. According to our last conversation, the young
doctor was completely certain that he wouldn’t survive his post in
the war.
“
But he actually sold the house!” Blod said in less than a
squeak, tears forming slowly at the corner of her eyes. “He’s made
it feel like he won’t be coming back.” I put out a hand to pat her
knee and to my surprise she grabbed it and held onto me tightly.
“You’ll keep an eye on him for me, won’t you?”
“
Of course,” I promised, “I’ll tell you everything I
can.”
We sat in a
silence for a few moments until Blod seemed to realise that she was
still latched onto me. She let go and dusted herself down proudly,
pushing the water from under her eyes as she stared at the ground
thoughtfully.
“
Can you find anyone you want to with this psychic
lark?”
The sudden
question made me stammer. “Well, um, more or less. I’ve been
getting better and better at sort of… targeting people.”
Blod paused
fearfully, taking a little breath.
“
Can you find Ieuan?” she asked.
It wasn’t as
though the thought hadn’t occurred to me. In fact it had come to me
no sooner than I’d heard he was missing, but I had pushed the idea
of looking for him deep down into my head and tried not to feel the
guilt pressing in on my thoughts every day. In truth I was scared
to do it, scared to search in case the worse had come true. I had
no way of knowing what it would be like to put my mind into the
head of a dead man and absolutely no desire to find out. Idrys
hadn’t asked me to look for him either, some silent understanding
between us, perhaps, that it was better to hope than have one’s
worst fears confirmed. Blod clearly didn’t have those kind of
concerns.
“
I can try,” I said, voice trembling. I wasn’t sure that I
wanted to, but there was no way that I could say no to Blod, she’d
lost so much already this summer.
She sat
patient and silent as a child whilst I wrapped myself up warm again
and settled, heaving out my shaking breaths. I closed my eyes along
with the usual moves, concentrating hard on Ieuan’s ginger head of
hair, his low lilting voice, his eyes the same bright blue as the
rest of the Price siblings. I thought about the jokes he’d made at
the dinner table, the wink he’d tipped me about the rationed
chocolate what seemed like forever ago. All around me was blackness
for a terrifyingly long time, but I focused harder still on the
youngest brother, the long nose and square jaw that smacked of his
poor father.
The blackness
evolved into something, though it was still a terribly dark place
to be. I could see a crumbling, impossibly dark wall before me, I
felt cramped, afraid, like I couldn’t breathe. I panicked
horrifically as I realised I was underground. Was he dead? Buried?
Was this his body, deathly still, laying in the earth forever
more?