Perfectly Reflected (19 page)

I sat in the sitting room, looking out of the window and down the garden. The sunlight dappled the scruffy lawn and the birds were out in force, pecking away at my mum’s strawberry plants. It was a perfect summer scene: tranquil, warm, and yet for me, absolutely wrong.

I tried to practice not thinking, to empty my mind, but Callum was always there. As I shut my eyes I could see his face, the line of his jaw, the worry in his eyes. I rubbed the plaster on my palm, and the pain as I pressed on the cut reminded me of the amulet. That was my last contact with the beautiful, mysterious stone that had changed my life, the last time I had seen its glittering blue depths. I wished that the cut would never heal; that the pain could be there as a constant, tangible reminder of what I had lost.

“Alex? Alex? Are you in here?” The voice reached down and pulled
me up from the depths. I opened my eyes and saw that the garden was nearly lost in the gloom.

“Uh, yeah,” I called back before Josh could panic.

“Oh, there you are, didn’t see you hiding in the dark.” The relief was evident in his voice.

“I’ve just been dozing, that’s all. Didn’t Grace fill you in?”

His shifty expression told me all I needed to know. Grace had come by late afternoon to collect her school gear with Jack in tow, and I had roused myself enough to make them coffee and listen to her gossip from the afternoon. I had excused myself from the party, which was going on into the evening, and finally they had left me to it. I was pretty sure that she was going to give an update on my status to Josh though, and I had been right.

“She might have called,” he attempted in a nonchalant manner, but quickly abandoned it. “She’s just worried about you, you know.”

“I know, you’re both being very kind. I just need a bit of time, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well, you know… If I can help…”

“Josh, I know you’d rather stick pins in your eyes than deal with a weeping girl, but I appreciate the offer, truly.”

“Ah, maybe, yeah…” He suddenly leapt up. “Food, that’s what I can do. I bet you haven’t eaten, have you? You must eat.”

“Mum would be pleased with you,” I managed a half-smile. “I’m fine, I had a sandwich earlier,” I lied. He’d never notice that nothing was gone from the fridge.

Josh sat back down again, looking serious. “The thing is, Alex, I’m supposed to be going to that festival tomorrow, and Mum and Dad won’t be back until Sunday. Would you rather I stay home? I’m happy to do that if you need me here. We still
have no idea where that weird woman has gone, and I’ll be worried sick if you’re here on your own.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ll be OK. I’m sure Grace would come running if I asked, and Jack. I’ll be quite safe.”

“It’s just that, after the mugging as well, I can’t help feeling that you might be in danger.”

“She wanted my bracelet, and she got it. Why would she come back?”

“Are you sure that there’s nothing else going on?” He grabbed my hands and waited until I looked at him.

“Positive. She got what she wanted. Now she’s gone.” I tried as hard as I could, but I couldn’t stop the single tear that brimmed over my lashes and dropped fatly on my arm. Josh hugged me tight for a second.

“Well, let’s sleep on it. I’ll wake you first thing in the morning and we can decide if I’m going to go or not.”

“Don’t you dare!” I sniffed loudly. “I don’t want to be woken up that early. If I’m left alone, with a bit of luck I’ll sleep most of the day.” I put as much emotion into the smile as I could find.

Josh came and checked on me in the morning, and I debated pretending to be asleep but then he would only have worried. Having reassured him again that I was quite capable of looking after myself he left, laden down with a rucksack and camping gear. My money was on him sleeping in the car, though. As I heard the tyres crunch down the gravel drive I carefully rolled over and considered the ceiling. I’d had another bad night, failing to translate the gnawing fatigue I felt into actual sleep. Lying in bed was an attractive option, hoping that at some point I would pass out, but it didn’t seem very likely. I tried to think about something,
anything, other than how much I missed Callum, but there were too many memories in the room. Defeated, I stumbled out of bed and into the shower.

The ache in my heart was joined by another feeling of emptiness as I made my way downstairs, and I realised that I was hungry. I couldn’t actually remember the last time I had eaten, so I didn’t want to overdo it. I threw a slice of bread into the toaster, and for a minute I was gripped with longing for my parents; usually on a Saturday morning there would be a freshly baked loaf in the machine, wafting fabulous smells through the house. It wasn’t the same without them.

Josh had left me something too, a chunky old phone and a note.

For a big brother he was OK really, I thought, blinking back the tears as I put the note down, but they quickly evaporated as I picked up the phone. It was almost antique, and looked as if it could survive being run over by a bus.

The toast popped up, making me jump. It tasted like cardboard, but I kept nibbling away at it, hoping that it would take one of my pains away. I sat staring out into the garden as I
ate, trying not to think, but the memories attacked me from all sides. I kept coming back to that very first moment when I saw him, when I was standing under the dome of St Paul’s. He had looked so surprised that I was able to see him; I felt the edge of my mouth twitch a little as I remembered. They were weird, the rules of physics that seemed to bind the Dirges, all culminating at the top of the dome, where it seemed all bets were off.

The dome. My sleep-starved brain struggled for a moment; surely that was important?

Odd things happened at the top of the dome; before, when I had the amulet, I could touch and see and hear Callum when we were both on the Golden Gallery. That had been because Callum had passed some extra talents to me when he had returned my memories. What if those talents were still in me? What if Callum was waiting for me to work it out and meet him at the top of the dome?

I realised that I was sitting with my mouth hanging open, toast poised for another bite. I threw it down and stood up to go, then sat back down abruptly as the room started to spin. I put my head between my knees and counted to ten, kicking myself mentally. I had to eat something to get – and keep – my blood sugar up or I was never going to make it up the five hundred or so steps to the top of St Paul’s. But the tiredness was gone, swept away like mist in a breeze, and the pain had receded. I had a plan.

Alone

I could barely contain my excitement as I made my way up to London. The journey seemed to take forever, and the train was full of shoppers and tourists. At Waterloo I had a quick debate with myself; the direct line to Bank didn’t always operate at the weekend, I remembered, but the bus had been OK. I found my way through the station concourse to the right bus stop, dodging all the people standing aimlessly in huddles, watching the departure boards. I went past a doughnut stall as I headed for the steps and a girl in a stripy apron was giving away little tasters. Without thinking I took a piece, and was quickly reminded by my stomach just how hungry I really was. I had to double-back and buy a whole one, justifying it to myself as energy for the long climb ahead.

As I waited at the bus stop I found myself humming one of Callum’s favourite songs, and I realised with a shock that I was almost happy. It seemed to have been such a long time since I first lost the amulet, but somehow I knew now that it was going to be OK; I would talk with Callum and he and Matthew would work out what I needed to do. They had had several days to come up with plans and options, and I was confident that they would have some. I couldn’t quite work out what they could possibly be, but I decided not to let that worry me; I was just content being on my way to see him again.

I had hoped to be able to sit on the top deck of the bus
when it appeared so that I could see St Paul’s as we approached, but the bus was packed and I ended up standing on the lower deck, squeezed in between a family of Japanese tourists and some teenagers in hoodies. One of the hoodies glanced at me then nudged his mate. They both smirked as they looked away, and I remembered that I hadn’t bothered to cover up the bruise on my cheek before I left home. I tried to catch a glimpse of my reflection in the chrome surfaces around the bus, but couldn’t really see how bad it was. My hand curled around the little travel mirror that was still in my pocket, but I didn’t want to whip it out anywhere so crowded. I wondered briefly if I ought to stop and get some make-up to cover it before I saw Callum, but realised that he would have been watching me all this time anyway, so it wouldn’t worry him.

Finally the bus lumbered up Ludgate Hill, and I fought my way off. The plaza in front of the cathedral was heaving with people, as were the steps up to the entrance. I smiled to myself as I thought of that day, not so long ago, when Callum had brought me here to meet with Matthew for the first time and I had seen the other Dirges, all clustered around in their long dark cloaks. I guessed some of them were there now, gathering happy memories from the unsuspecting tourists, or watching me. I wanted to acknowledge them in some way, but resisted the temptation and joined the queue to get inside.

As usual, the cathedral was a cool, calm oasis and seemed a million miles away from the activity outside. But I didn’t linger to soak up the atmosphere, just made a beeline for the stairs. Climbing up was hard going, and I was almost grateful for the large number of tourists who made it impossible to go too fast. I was starting to feel the downside of not eating properly over
the previous few days. So I plodded steadily upwards, and when I got to the Whispering Gallery I sat for a while, recovering my strength. I wondered which of the Dirges I was sitting next to, and hoped it was Olivia. It seemed so long since I had sat and talked with her on that very seat, before Lucas had taken his chance, but it had only been a week. I glanced around; no one was in earshot.

“Hi, Olivia, not sure if you’re there as I can’t see you any more, but just in case, I want to tell you that it’s not your fault. You do know that, don’t you?”

There was no responding tingle, but it had been a long shot so I wasn’t too disappointed. Once my legs had stopped aching I made my way round to the far side of the gallery and up the relentless spiral stairway to the Stone Gallery. I stopped there too, but it was harder to find a free seat so I just sank down on to the stone floor and sat with my back against the wall, letting my breathing come back to normal. As usual though, my excitement was growing in leaps and bounds the higher up the building I climbed. I couldn’t resist getting out the little mirror to check how bad my face looked, but also to have a surreptitious scout around for any hint of the Dirges. I couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but I wasn’t yet at the top, I reasoned. My face was a bit of shock to me, when I finally looked at it. The bruise had grown down my cheek from my cheekbone and was now a rainbow of different colours. It definitely looked like I had been fighting, so it was no wonder that the boys on the bus had laughed.

But Callum wouldn’t care, I thought as I snapped the mirror shut and stood up, my heart already racing. I made for the familiar door and slipped through from the bright sunshine to the gloom inside. I kept a steady pace as I climbed, and was again helped by the pace of the other tourists. I was disappointed that the gallery
was fully open, unlike during my previous visits, but perhaps I hadn’t given Callum enough warning of my trip to do whatever it was he did to make sure it was closed. I shuddered as I passed the half-landing where Lucas and Callum had fought, wondering if he was still stalking me. When I reached the little room with the viewing panel down to the floor dozens of metres below, the line of people came to a complete halt, so while I caught my breath I fished out my phone earpiece, to be ready to talk to Callum unobtrusively as soon as I got outside.

One of the cathedral guides was stationed in the little room, and he was determined to keep us all in line and moving.

“No lingering up top today, please,” he announced as he urged our line along and up the last flight of steps. “Keep it moving, then everyone gets to enjoy the view.” But it was impossible to move; the line was completely stalled. I could see the old oak door to the outside but I was going to have to wait my turn. The old cast-iron staircase was incredibly narrow, just one person wide, so there was no way to jump the queue. It was lucky they had an “up” stairway and a separate “down” route, I thought, otherwise we would all have been stuck.

Finally, step by slow step, I made it towards the door. I could feel the fresh air on my face, and had to fight the urge to barge past as many people as I could to finally reach Callum. Eventually I stepped outside and grasped the rusty old railing with the peeling golden paint.

“Hi, Callum, I made it, top of the dome!” I announced joyfully into the mouthpiece. There was a strange silence. “Hi, Callum, are you there?” I found the mirror and scanned about, no longer caring what the other tourists thought. There was nothing unusual to be seen; no ghostly shadows, no strange
tingling sensation. On a balcony packed full of people I was utterly alone.

I couldn’t believe that, not yet. Maybe he was on the far side of the balcony. As I shuffled around with the people enjoying the view I tried to hold that thought, but the further round I went, the more futile I realised it was. “Callum?” I tried again as I stood on the spot where we had first touched, where I realised that I could actually see him and hold him and kiss him. But there was nothing. Tears ran unheeded down my cheeks as my calls became more desperate. I tried to linger, to see if there was any small area of the balcony where it might be different, but the press of people behind me made it impossible. It was as if I was in a nightmare conga line, being led where I had no wish to go.

As we shuffled towards the door to the stairway down I wriggled round to see if there was a way of staying up there, of going round again, but there was another cathedral guide stationed between the doors, next to a barrier that stopped people doing a full circuit. “Callum!” I cried again in anguish before I had to let go of the barrier and head back into the gloom. “Please, please let me know you’re there!” I was sobbing out loud, and the guide looked at me in alarm.

“You all right there, missy?” he asked in a kindly but worried tone. “Do you need any help getting back down?”

I shook my head at him miserably, but couldn’t speak. “Well, take care on the steps then,” he said as he ushered me through the door, clearly relived to have got me away from the lethal drop on the other side of the railings. As the darkness enveloped me I felt as if my world would end. Stumbling down the steps through streams of tears, I finally found a place where I could sneak to one
side and slump down on to the cold, hard metal staircase. I sank into the misery.

I opened my eyes when the person shaking my arm became too persistent to ignore. I tried to move away, but as I was wedged into a small space on one of the stairway landings there was nowhere much to go.

“Now then, missy,” said a low voice. Was it the same guy who had talked to me at the top? At the top where there was no sign of Callum? The thought pierced my heart like a knife. I heard another voice in the background.

“Security? Yes, she seems to be conscious.” There was a click and an indistinct crackling noise. “No, hold off on the ambulance for a minute, will you? We’ll try and persuade her to walk down. I’ll update you in five. Dome three out.” There was a shuffling noise, then the same voice again, but louder. “Move along, please, folks, nothing to see here. Keep walking please.” In the background I could hear the whispers of the people passing down the stairs. One voice was much more strident than the rest.

“Mummy, why is that lady sitting there like that? Is she sick?”

“Hush now, Julia, keep your voice down.”

“But why is she sitting there? That’s not allowed, and why is that man talking into that funny phone?”

“It’s a walkie-talkie, darling. I expect she’s just a little faint, but it’s really not our business. Come on, look, you can see all the way down to the bottom of the inner dome over there.” The voices faded as the clattering of feet on the iron stair continued.

The first man was shaking my arm again. “Come on, love, can you get to your feet? Are you frightened of heights? I know
that it can get a bit scary in here. Much worse on the way down than on the way up. Is that the problem?”

It seemed easier to let him believe that that was the case, so I nodded briefly. The relief was evident in his voice; this was obviously something he had dealt with before.

“OK then, let’s be getting you up on your feet. Reggie,” he called to the older man. “We’re going to make our way down. I’ll go in front and you stay right behind her.”

I let myself be helped up, then the two of them manhandled me down the stairs. I kept my mind as blank as possible, just thought about the next step, the next railing to hold, the next turn. I tried to tell them that I was OK when we got to the Stone Gallery level, but they seemed determined to escort me to the ground. Maybe they thought I was going to jump. For the first time I could see the appeal of that, the possibility of no future but no pain, but I carried on walking.

When we finally reached the huge checkerboard floor at ground level they still wouldn’t let me go. One of the men led me to a line of chairs and insisted that I sat down, while the one with the walkie-talkie disappeared into the crowd. My companion tried a few conversational openers while we sat there, but I couldn’t bring myself to chat. We sat in silence for a while, and I tried hard not to think about what might be going on around me, which Dirges might be watching and listening. There was no danger of any of them stealing anything from me today though.

Eventually the other guy came back, closely followed by an elderly woman in a cassock. The man sitting with me stood up with a relieved look on his face. “You’ll be fine now, missy. Reverend Waters will make sure you’re OK.”

“I
am
OK,” I protested, not wanting to get pressed into
conversation, but Reverend Waters put a surprisingly firm hand on my shoulder as I tried to get to my feet. She looked vaguely familiar and I realised with a jolt that she was the person who had been watching me in the Whispering Gallery the last time I had been in the cathedral, when I first met Olivia.

“Can you spare me a few minutes?” she asked gently, sitting down beside me. I shrugged and settled back in my chair.

“Thank you. I’m Reverend Waters, as you know. And you are…?”

“Alex,” I mumbled, not keen to give her more than the basics.

“Nice to meet you, Alex. Now, my colleagues were very worried about you, and they thought that maybe you would like a little chat.”

“It’s very kind of them, but I’ve nothing I want to talk about.”

She wasn’t to be put off. “It’s just that – well, they seemed to think it wasn’t vertigo that upset you.”

I shrugged again, hoping she would take the hint. “They thought that maybe you were going to hurt yourself, to jump maybe.” She paused for a moment. “Is there something troubling you?”

I glanced at her face, so full of concern for a complete stranger, and for a split second I thought about telling her everything, just to get it off my chest. I even drew in a breath to start, but then realised that she would think I was crazy. Instead I pressed my lips firmly together and shook my head as a single tear traced its way down my salt-encrusted cheeks.