Dream House (20 page)

As I go, my eyes gradually adjust enough to make out just the barest outlines in the darkness.

I finally reach the central chamber where the three passageways meet before stretching out towards their different points of origin and stand there for a second under that iron cross, struggling to decide where to go: straight on to Avery's house, or right, towards the church?

For some reason, my instinct tells me to choose the second.

I head off along that long, gently sloping tunnel until I see a faint light growing stronger around the edges of an ancient door.

When I reach it, I shove it as hard as I can. It doesn't budge at first, but at the third try opens unwillingly, allowing me to see what's hidden behind it: the Gothic chapel whose spire I saw behind the trees my first day here, rising high and narrow from the ground and surrounded by dozens of headstones scattered chaotically all over the graveyard, leaving just one clear path which leads right up to the entrance of the church.

I walk along the old flagstones to the church door, which bears a large sign reading, “A Safe Place for All” in Gothic lettering.

The church is built upon a hill, higher than the land where the Bloom house is located, and as I look around I realise how breathtaking the view is from here.

Hoping to get inside, I step onto the church's little porch, but the door is chained shut, and as the light of the sun is starting to fade, I take it as a sign to leave.

I walk back down the hill towards the old wooden door which gives access to the tunnel. Almost hidden by the long grass, it looks like the entrance to an abandoned storm shelter. As I pass them, I gaze absently at the gravestones lining the path, all crumbling and half-buried in weeds and ivy, except for one which I notice is newer-looking than the others.

I walk closer, almost thrust towards it, as though some kind of force were drawing me there.

And when I'm standing in front of it, something inside my mind finally snaps.

In loving memory of Avery Bradford

24/02/1990—21/10/2010

Rest in Peace

I sink to my knees.

Am I cursed?

Is that what this is? A curse?

Is
everyone
I meet dead?

I stare at the words a little while longer, then raise my head to look up at the darkening sky. My eyes are streaming with tears, and my heart feels as though it's been broken into millions of tiny, throbbing fragments.

After crouching there by the gravestone for who knows how long, crying so hard that my eyes feel as though they're actually going to fall out of my head, I finally start to come back to my senses. It dawns on me how late it has got—the stars are out, and the little graveyard is lit only by the small lamp by the side of the church door.

I gather my energies, get to my feet, and pull the tunnel door shut behind me before walking back, alone, along the same tunnel I took to come here, trying to get a grip on myself as I go.

After what seems an eternity of walking, I reach the chamber halfway along the tunnel and find somebody standing there, his head lowered.

It takes me an instant to realise that it's Avery.

Still unwilling to accept his death, I run into his arms without saying a word, and he holds me, hugging me tenderly.

I've cried so much that I've got no tears left, only an avalanche of things to ask, so after relishing an embrace that I wish never had to end, and with Avery's arms still around me, I whisper my first question.

“How?”

He knows exactly what I'm referring to, and answers without hesitation. “I told you.”

I lean back from him so I can look him in the face, my eyes wide open. “The fight?”

Avoiding my eyes, Avery nods.

“Why are you still here, after all this time?” I ask.

He doesn't answer, so I press him. “Is it because of your mother? You don't want to leave her on her own?”

He still doesn't make eye contact or say a single word.

“She's safe,” I say. “You shouldn't have to be here. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Stop,” he says at last.

I stand there, looking at him in shock, desperately wanting to hear his reasons.

“I can't leave. Not yet,” he explains.

“But why not? Tell me, please!” I beg.

But he refuses to talk.

My shock at finding out that he is dead still fresh in my mind, and now maddened by his evasiveness and unwillingness to open up to me—even after all we've been through, even with everything that's going on—I'm suddenly overcome by a desperate, overwhelming need to get away from all this, to escape this nightmare situation.

And so I run into the dark tunnel.

Away from him.

Without looking back.

I
CLIMB OUT
of the trapdoor and throw myself down, breathless and panicky, in the corner of my bedroom, my knees pulled up to my chin, my arms hugging my legs to my body as tightly as they can, and my head hanging down.

When I open my eyes, I realise that I must have fainted from stress and exhaustion. It's 2:50 in the afternoon—a new day has begun, and I've already wasted most of it.

I stand up and in my mind run over all the things that I've learnt, wondering if maybe Avery isn't stuck in the mortal world because of his mother after all, but because of somebody else who was dear to him.

One person instantly comes to mind—his close friend Akiko.

But if that's the case, it wouldn't make any sense—it was him who told me that Akiko had died, so why would he be here if she isn't alive anymore?

I think back to all the times that I've encountered—or
thought
I've encountered—that little girl and ask myself if just maybe they
weren't
dreams. Maybe they were actually something more.

Eager to understand, I head for the Blooms' bedroom.

The ladder is still where I left it, so I climb up until I'm high enough to reach the cord hanging from the ceiling and tug down on it, opening up my way to the attic.

As soon as my eyes get accustomed to the dim light, I see the wooden chest in front of me, the framed picture still perched on top of it.

I put my hand into the pocket of my jeans and pull out the key I'd placed there for safekeeping. Sure enough, when I insert it into the lock and twist it, there's a clicking sound.

Yes.

I clear everything off the top of the chest and open the lid, nonplussed for a moment by the jumbled mass of contents that is suddenly revealed. Thrown higgledy-piggledy inside are dozens of pictures showing the young Akiko with various family members through the years. I stick my hand in and pull one out at random. On the left, there's Akiko wearing a pretty collared dress, her hair up in pigtails, while on the right a taller boy is holding her hand and smiling.

I turn the picture over and read
Akiko & Avery, 2000
.

I go through as many of the photos as I can, until I see one that I didn't expect to find: a picture of a teenage girl.

It's a close-up of her face—she isn't looking at the camera but the subtle smile on her face makes it obvious she's aware somebody's pointing it in her direction.

I know the person in this picture.

I ought to.

It's me.

I drop the picture to the floor and my heart begins beating so fast that it feels as though the already stuffy air in that cramped little space is turning solid.

My confusion at the whole bizarre situation at this point is so total, so absolute, that I completely lose it and start rummaging manically through the contents of the chest for other pictures of me.

Why would Marvin and Amabel have pictures of
me
in their house? Especially locked safely inside this box? And why would they act as though they didn't know me when we first met if they've been taking
pictures
of me all this time?

My mind is busily cranking out worst-case scenarios when I suddenly come across a picture that makes it go completely, totally blank.

It's the three of us.

I'm in the middle, standing between Mr. and Mrs. Bloom. We're all smiling, and I don't look that different from now, except maybe a few years younger.

I don't remember them taking this picture. I don't remember these people.

I just . . .

Don't remember.

The cramped attic is starting to make me feel extremely claustrophobic, so I grab a stack of pictures and, without bothering to clean up the mess I've made, get myself out of there and down the ladder as fast as I can, and race into the living room.

Once I'm sitting on the couch, I spread the pictures out across the coffee table in front of me and start giving them a quick once-over. I recognise Avery's face in a few, so I slide the others out of the way and hold one of them up in front of me.

The composition is similar to the one I saw of him when I was upstairs, but this time he looks grown up, and the girl standing next to him is not Akiko, but me.

I'm sitting there staring at it, dozens of thoughts flashing through my mind, when I realise that there's something outside the picture distracting me. I lift my eyes from the photo to the windows overlooking the back garden and see that Avery's light is on—only to go off immediately the instant I notice it.

But I'm too engrossed in the photo between my fingers to care, so I ignore what's happening outside and return to my own thoughts.

Why don't I
remember
anything about myself? Why don't I remember
any
of these people who have clearly played a role in my life?

And why do they act like they don't know
me
?

As I ask myself these questions, the thing that people have been telling me ever since I first entered this house, right since the very beginning, starts reverberating around the inside of my head.

You should leave.

The words keep echoing inside my head.

So I decide to follow their advice.