Two of a Mind (13 page)

Have I ruined our relationship before it's even got started?

I woke early – not that I'd really slept anyway – feeling desperately worried about what I was going to say to Seth. How would he react when I told him that I'd spilled the beans to my parents?
Only one way to find out I suppose.

On summer break from the Academy, the days seemed to run into each other and I'd forgotten that it was a Sunday morning. I was showered, dressed and sitting at the kitchen table when the 'rents came in for breakfast.

“Oh! Good morning, Dez!” said Mum, still red around her eyes. “You're not usually down before us. Especially at the weekend. Is something wrong?”

I considered brushing aside the question then decided to confide my fears in the spirit of our new-found closeness. “I'm sure I'll have messed up with Seth. How do I confess that I broke his trust and told you about his mum's diary?”

Mum gently patted my back as reassurance.

“You'll manage it, love. And, if there is something special between you, you'll both get over this upset. You just need to trust your feelings and believe in his.”

“Thanks, Mum.” I looked at my dad, wondering if the conversation had reminded him of his intention to send us to the authorities. “Dad?”

“All right,” he replied. “You can have some time to sort things out with Seth. But you must try to convince him that the police should investigate these new developments. I don't mean to sound patronising, but you are still children, with limited resources. Promise me that you will not take any risks. If Elizabeth was involved with something that led to her death, you could be getting into the sort of trouble you can't handle. Please, at least come to me when you have any further information.
Do not
go chasing after clues on your own.”

“Thank you, Daddy!” I squealed and leapt up to give him a big hug. I decided to keep my murder memories to myself for now.
After all they may be something completely unrelated.
Yeah, who was I trying to kid? “Oh, and you won't say anything to Samuel about this, will you?” I quickly added.

“We'll keep quiet,” Mum replied. “But you should ask Seth to talk to his father about it. Samuel might be able to offer some insight. Last night I finally realised he's entitled to know the truth even if it is hard to understand.”

“I'll see what I can do,” I promised. “Don't worry about lunch for me. If I'm back I'll make myself a sandwich.”

The walk to Seth's house seemed to stretch far beyond the usual couple of hundred metres yet it was over all too soon. My worrying sent the voices into a frenzied buzz and it was hard to keep them in that mental room I'd created. I kept getting snippets of conversations – all fairly mundane Sunday morning stuff but it bothered me that I could so easily lose my control over them. I was trying to calm my nerves and the chattering as I knocked on Seth's door.

“You're out and about early, Dez,” Samuel said, as he ushered me into the kitchen. “Seth's not down yet. Help yourself to a cuppa, there should be one left in the pot. SETH, DEZ IS HERE! Sorry, love, I've got to dash out. One of the trams is stuck up Digby Hill and the remote reset isn't doing the trick. No rest for the wicked, eh?” He grabbed his overalls from the back of the door, picked up his kit, and waved as he left to sort out the town's transport system.

It'd been a frantic but pleasant interval as Samuel rushed around getting ready, but now the kitchen was quiet. I could hear the sparrows chirruping in the gutters outside and the excited barking of a neighbour's dog. Normal everyday sounds that I usually ignored. Now I felt that I had to listen especially hard to hear anything outside my own head. It was all the more special for the extra effort. However, I obviously wasn't listening too well as Seth managed to creep up and give me a huge fright when he grabbed my shoulders from behind.

“Gotcha!” he laughed.

“What the hell are you playing at?” I yelled. My fear making me unreasonably angry.

Stepping back, he held his hands up in surrender, his eyes full of concern, “Sorry. Didn't mean to get you so uptight,” he said.

The adrenaline release left me shaking and I struggled not to cry.
I'm really gonna have to stop all this blubbing.
I took a few deep breaths to steady my nerves and started again.

“I'm sorry too, but you frightened me half to death! Anyway, you want a coffee or something to eat?” I'd spent a large part of my life in Seth's kitchen so I was used to helping out during my frequent visits. Actually, I needed the familiarity to bolster my courage before I tore apart our idyll from yesterday.

“Er, thanks,” he said, taken aback by my quick mood swing. “I'll have scrambled eggs, please.” He sat at the breakfast-bar and tentatively reached for my hand. “Sorry again,” he added.

“S'okay.” I kissed him on the top of his head as I walked behind him towards the hob. “I'm fine now.” I could see that he knew I wasn't fine at all but he didn't argue.

“Did Alvin get back to you last night?” he asked. I'd forgotten that we'd left a message for the therapist.

“Didn't get any calls at home. He might not check his calls at the weekend.”

“He came out for a session on a Saturday so why not check his calls?” Seth had a point.

“Hang on, I'll check my messages.” I found my earclip in the bottom of my bag, hooked it over my ear and accessed my messages: “You have one new voice message. Received Saturday the 2
^nd
of August at 8.22pm: ‘Hi Dez, Alvin returning your call. Hope you haven't developed any further problems from this morning's session. We're away for the rest of the weekend but if there's anything urgent that you need to discuss, please don't hesitate to contact me. I've provisionally booked to see you on Monday morning at ten. Unless I hear from you to the contrary, I'll assume that's okay. Bye for now.' To save the ….” I cut off the recording knowing that it would be saved automatically. Seth looked at me with the curiosity plain in his expression.

“Yes,” I answered. “There's a message. He's away but he's booked me in for Monday morning. I think he's worried that I've had an adverse reaction to the hypnotherapy. Better let Dad know there'll be another bill coming.”

“Oh gosh, sorry Dez. Never thought about that.”

“Don't worry. Remember I'm the spoiled brat of the family. Money is no object,” I joked. I was trying to put off the conversation I knew we had to have. I've never been a good liar. It's too much effort to remember the lie and I always manage to trip myself up. Even by trying not to mention the betrayal of Seth's secret I felt I was lying in some way. Time to ‘grasp the nettle' as my gran would say.

“Seth. There's something I have to tell you and I'm afraid you're gonna be very upset with me.”

“What is it?”

“I told the 'rents about your mum's journal. Not the contents,” I added hastily as I saw him frown, “just that one exists and that we're looking at it to see if there're any hints about her … her… what she was doing that night.”

I expected some kind of outburst but the prolonged silence that followed was harder to deal with. Seth's face became a blank mask – emotion completely wiped from it. What was he thinking? How did he feel?
Please say something!

Finally, in a quiet, hoarse voice he asked; “Why?”

I wasn't sure where to start. How could I justify myself? I thought back to the previous evening and the conversation I'd had with the 'rents.

“It came out when I was telling them about us being a couple, now.” I risked a look up into his eyes to see if that was still the case. His deadpan expression didn't flicker;
no hints there
. “Mum was upset and I asked her why she didn't like you. But, apparently it's not like that at all. She said she's uncomfortable around you and your dad 'cos she saw your mum that night.”

“What?”

“Your mum was in a hurry and seemed uptight. She asked my mum not to say anything to your dad. Mum jumped to the wrong conclusion, thinking that Elizabeth was having an affair and she made some angry comment about keeping it quiet. It's been eating away at her ever since. She feels really awful for having let Elizabeth go off that night and for not telling you that she'd seen her, but she thought she was saving you from more hurt.”

“And how did that lead to you telling them about the diary?” Seth asked, in a flat tone.

“I'm sorry, Seth, I couldn't help it. Mum was in tears. I couldn't let her carry on believing that she was responsible for what happened. I've never seen her in such a state. I said that she wouldn't have been able to stop Elizabeth and, by telling her that, I had to explain how I knew.”

“How exactly
do
you know?” His cold questions were frightening me.
I've really screwed up!
I'd forgotten that I hadn't had chance to show him Elizabeth's letter yet. I'd wanted to get him prepared for it and now it was going to be dumped on him in the midst of all this.

“Er … well … I found this on Friday night,” I said. I took Elizabeth's
Handi
from my bag, powered it up and opened the page containing the hidden letter. I moved the cursor until it changed shape.

“Click on the teardrop,” I said.

I noticed his hand was shaking as he took the
Handi
and read the letter. What little colour had been left in his face drained away and I was worried that he was going to pass out. He blinked rapidly but couldn't stop the tears spilling onto his alabaster cheeks. I swallowed hard to stop my own sobs. I had to be strong for Seth. He needed the comforting this time. I reached forward and gently laid my hand on his arm where it rested on the kitchen worktop. He drew away from me and it was as though he'd thrust a knife deep into my chest. The pain of that rejection, whether intended or not, was physical and yet I knew I deserved it.

A sudden, furious desire to clean up the kitchen came over me. My coping mechanism. Whenever I feel things getting beyond my control, I start to tidy – whether it's my room, my handbag or a single drawer. Putting stuff away neatly helps me to process my thoughts. ‘A place for everything and everything in its place!' I also hoped a burst of activity would chase the suddenly noisy voices back into their ‘room' so I began collecting the dirty dishes to stack them in the dishwasher. My anxiety showed in the way the crockery clattered in my hands and I concentrated on stilling the trembling in my arms.

The multitude of connections became suddenly so intense that I dropped the dishes. I clung to the edge of the worktop, my eyes closed, my mind trying to focus on locking them away. When my slight nausea and dizziness from yet another fright had passed, I started to collect up the pieces of a dish that hadn't survived my reaction.

“Leave them,” Seth said. “I'll clear up later.”

I waited in the hope that he would begin to talk to me again but he just carried on staring at the
Handi
screen. The tension between us continued to build and having my cleaning activity abruptly halted allowed the babbling in my head to intensify. I couldn't ask Seth for any kind of support. I'd lost that option with my loose talk. Now I had to suffer the consequences and hope that time would mend the rupture in our relationship – and if it only restored our friendship, that would have to be enough. But I was terrified that we wouldn't even manage that.

“You might not agree,” I said, as I prepared to leave. “But you should tell your dad about the journal, if only to let him see the letter. Your mum wanted to tell him those things too.”

I couldn't leave him without some gesture that I was sorry and still wanted to be with him, so I leaned towards him and kissed his tear-streaked cheek. More than the quick peck of a friend, less than the passionate exchanges of the previous day. He looked at me and I saw the pain and resentment competing against the glimpse of love in his soft brown eyes. Outwardly he showed no reaction but in that instant I sensed his feelings of loss and abandonment. Without realising what I was doing I tried to hear his thoughts. There was nothing amongst the babbling of others. I recoiled at my own selfishness. I wouldn't probe further but it was agony to feel so cut off from the one person I'd always been able to communicate with.

Please Seth. Please, don't shut me out now.

Great, Dez. You really did a first-rate job of that!

I walked aimlessly towards the park again. The fright of the previous day overshadowed by the more recent emotional upheaval. I found a secluded spot on the embankment leading down to the lake and sat on the dew-damp grass. I wrapped my arms around my legs and bowed my head in surrender, grinding my forehead onto my bony knees as if I could scrape away the pain. I couldn't cope any more. Over the past weeks, too many things had happened that shifted my world to a life now filled with a bewildering onslaught of unfamiliar sensations and instability. I felt like I had my own personal earthquake following me around – tearing everything apart and leaving devastation in its path. Should I ring Alvin or wait until tomorrow to find out whether he had any explanation for what I was going through? Then I realised that, without Elizabeth's
Handi
or Seth's cooperation, I had no references for my dream memories. No matter how bad things were between us, I would have to go back to Seth and ask if he still wanted to know the truth about his mother's death.

“Thought I'd find you here.”

I looked up in surprise. “Seth. I …”

“I know. You're sorry!” He sat beside me. “But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt. It might seem unreasonable, but I was angry that you spoke to your parents without warning me first. I'd only just got used to the idea of
Us
myself. Then, not only do you blab about that, you go on to tell 'em about Mum's diary.”

I shuffled awkwardly as he hesitated. My backside was getting chilled from the wet grass but my discomfort wasn't only physical.

“And I was jealous,” he said, quietly as though embarrassed to admit it.

“Jealous?”

“Yeah! You still have your mum to confide in. You still have her to argue with and to make up to. And then you tell me that your mum thinks she could've saved mine. 'Course I was jealous – and furious with her. She should've made the effort to find out what was going on – not just been so bloody judgemental. She knew my mum better than that!” He was getting angry again.

“Mum realises that, Seth. If she could go back and do things differently, she would. She was very close to your mum. Don't you remember the barbeques? The Juniors' Sports Days, when they'd get together, bake for Britain and take turns at winning the mums' race? My mum lost her best friend too. Don't you think she'd do anything to change that?”

“Fine. You've made your point. Let's move on shall we? I came to apologise for letting our first disagreement get out of hand.”

“Hardly our first disagreement, Seth Wallis.”

“As a couple it was.”

“I accept your apology on one condition,” I said.

“And that is?”

“You accept mine. I should've checked with you before letting on about us and definitely before telling the 'rents about Elizabeth's
Handi
. Am I forgiven?”

“That depends,” he said with a lop-sided grin, “on whether you can convince me.” He leaned towards me and puckered his lips expectantly. I laughed with relief and tugged him into a full-on, long and lovely kiss.

“Well, it's a start,” he said, when we finally came up for air. “Come on, let's get home and you can stand by the stove to dry out your jeans!” He pulled me to my feet and, arms linked, we walked back to his house.

***

I looked at the
Handi
while Seth made our brunch – toasted ciabatta with tomato purée and melted mozzarella – basically, home-made pizza. I was still struggling to see why he thought the diary had something significant to tell us about Elizabeth's behaviour. Sometimes the only thing that worked was a good old-fashioned mind-map. I needed to see everything laid out in plain view – flitting between the pages of the compact
Handi
was too disjointed and time-consuming. We launched the Holo-Comms in megascreen mode and synced a couple of digipens so that we each could add comments to the mind-map as it was projected onto the kitchen table.

“Let's see what we've got,” I said and powered up the
Handi.
“I think we can ignore the birthday and Academy reminders – so the pink and green highlighted dates are out. That leaves the yellow highlights which your mum used for client appointments and calls, and the blue markers that I asked you about the other day.”

“Did you?” Seth looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, don't you remember? Oh, hang on a mo. You were out with the washing and then I started hearing the voices.” I rolled my eyes in an attempt at dramatic expression then found myself laughing instead. Maybe it was the relief of having Seth on my side again when I'd expected him to hate me, I just had an uncontrollable urge to grin and giggle. Even the ever-present murmuring in my head couldn't dampen my good mood. It was insensitive, we were dealing with Seth's serious concerns about his mum but he smiled and put his arm around me while he looked at the
Handi's
calendar pages.
Mm.
That's better.

“You mean these?” He pointed at the appropriate dates. “No idea what they are. Can't think of anything significant about those dates.”

“I'll list them out separately for now. Maybe something'll come to mind later.”

As I scrolled through the calendar to find the first marker, the cursor changed to a skull icon as it reached that date: 18
^th
January 2105. I tapped on the date to enter the page and the news report of the girl in the woods came on screen. I shuddered as I remembered the telepathic experience of freezing to death.

“Got it!” Seth's sudden loud outburst made me jerk back to reality.

“W-what?”

“That notation thing – DOM. Date of … M … You know, like DOB is date of birth. But what does the M stand for?”

“Murder,” I whispered. “Look, the quotation says it all: ‘
… He just had the power to kill her that's all:…'
And I was there, remember? The bastard murdered her and got away with it.”

“So, if that's what DOM means, do all the reports tally with the dates highlighted blue in the calendar?”

We spent the next hour matching the marked dates to the news reports that had corresponding DOM notations and pop-up quotations. The result was a depressing list of apparently unrelated incidents and accidents. Deaths of various individuals, a group of hikers, even a busload of school kids, and the only connection was that Elizabeth had highlighted them.

“Now what?” Seth's frustration was obvious as he ran his hands through his hair and blew out his cheeks in a long sigh.

“I think we're coming at it from the wrong angle,” I said. “We're looking for the common thread in the way these people died, but there isn't one. The deaths were all different. If they were murders committed by the same killer, he kept changing the way he did it – switching his M.O. so they wouldn't be recognised as a series.”

“You sound like a classic re-run of ‘CSI-2015'.”

“Oh, ha, ha. No, listen. What's the only link to these events?”

“I give in.”

“Seth! You're not even trying. It's your mum.”

“Yeah, I know. They're in my mum's diary. So what's the connection?”

“You still don't get it – that
is
the connection – they're in your mum's diary. She linked the news reports to the dates marked in blue – with a skull-shaped icon, for goodness' sake!”

“O-kay.” Seth drew out his reply as though he was trying to think it through as he spoke. “You're saying that
because
Mum linked them, there
has
to be a connection. So what is it and why didn't she just go to the police?”

“Not sure.” I switched on the hard-copier and transmitted a command from the
Handi
to get a printout of Elizabeth's letter. “Look. She says the answers are here if we can find them. She's telling us that the message has to be hidden – she has to be vague and she's struggling against barriers that nobody understands. Why? What or rather
who
could prevent her from telling us outright?”

Seth's expression showed his dawning realisation. “Her PT! That's it. She never once mentioned her PT. Remember, we sometimes talked about Nina? Dad's Russian doll, Mum called her. But we never heard anything about Mum's twin. Jeez, if you're saying he's the murderer, no wonder she broke down. Knowing who was doing this and not being able to tell anyone. Omigod, Dez. I used to get so annoyed when she was being moody.” His excitement at finding the link was replaced with the guilt of misunderstanding his mother's behaviour. He sat with his elbows on the table and dropped his head into his hands. His shoulders shook as he tried to contain his sobs.

“Don't worry, Seth. She would've known you couldn't understand.” I moved to sit beside him and tried to hold him. Being as clumsy as I am, I managed to stick my elbow onto the edge of a plate and it flipped up covering us both with left-over ciabatta pizza. It wasn't really that funny but we spent the next few minutes trying to control our hysterical laughing.

“You two look like you've been having a food fight.”

Samuel's voice had us scrabbling to close down the Holo-Comms before he caught sight of the notes we'd made. I quickly slipped Elizabeth's
Handi
into my jeans pocket but wasn't fast enough to move the printed letter.

“What's this?” Recognising his wife's hand-writing, he reached for the page.

I looked at Seth as I tried to get there first but he shook his head and I held back. We stood silently watching Samuel read the long-lost letter. His reaction so similar to his son's earlier in the day that it felt like déjà vu. I looked at Seth again and gestured for him to pull out a chair for Samuel then I went in search of the brandy. When I'd poured a good measure and brought it to the table Seth had managed to persuade his father to sit down.

“I should go.” I could hardly speak for the lump in my throat.

“No.” Samuel's voice was surprisingly strong. “No, love, there's no need for you to go. Just give me a minute. Thanks for the snifter.”

I couldn't believe how he was holding himself together so well. He'd looked ready to keel over and now he seemed in complete control.

“Really, Mr Wallis,” I said, forgetting our first name agreement. “You and Seth have things to talk about. I should leave you in peace.”

“Peace? You think there's been much of that about since Elizabeth took herself off?”

“Dad!” Seth looked at his dad in horror. Samuel was always such a quiet man – he'd rarely raised his voice even when we'd been naughty children. Yet now he'd snapped at me with such venom in his tone, it was unnerving. Although I tried to keep my mind occupied with the physical events, I heard Nina, Samuel's PT, asking what was wrong then scolding him for getting so unusually angry. I understood the conversation even though she was communicating in Russian and I recalled the time I'd heard Rosa. Ms Thorogood's explanation about the automatic translation came back to me and I realised that, of course, I couldn't speak Spanish or Russian – I understood Rosa and Nina because I heard them through their PT connection.

“Oh, love, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I suppose it's all these years of not really knowing what happened and now this.” He held up the letter as though he wished he could throw it away but was unable to let go of the last connection to his beloved wife. “I've been waiting for something like this to turn up. Thought it would make it easier. But it doesn't. It's like losing her all over again. Only this time I know for sure that she didn't intend to come home.”

“No, Mr … Samuel! No apology necessary.” I went to him and hugged him, breathing in the mechanical smell of nano-grease from his overalls. It brought back the memory of another Saturday afternoon – during the summer before Elizabeth died – Samuel came in from his workshop and she'd complained about his grimy clothes. He'd deliberately smudged the end of her nose with his grubby finger and she chased him out of the kitchen, shaking a wet cloth at him. Of course Seth had been hugely embarrassed by his 'rents' antics, but I'd thought it was so lovely that they still had so much romance in their lives.

Will Seth and I be as happy when we've sorted all this out?