Visions (6 page)

              “Yes, and it’s not the first time recently that I’ve seen something that actually has happened.” I told her about Amelia. “Do you think I should go and see a doctor again?”

              “I can’t see that their response will be any different now. There are no medical conditions that compare to what you experience. Well, none that are acknowledged, anyway. The only thing that it can be compared to, and I’m not saying that I even believe in any of this myself, is people who claim to have psychic abilities. But even palm or tarot card readers must be able to control what they see to some extent, otherwise how can they have clients?”

              We discussed what could be done until the early hours of the morning without finding any satisfactory resolution. It was pretty much agreed that while the ‘visions’ couldn’t be controlled, I would continue to refrain from driving. My mum also thought it might be a good idea to document anything that I saw, along with any details regarding place or time. Although the problem wasn’t solved, I felt so much

better because I knew I wasn’t the only one dealing with it now.

10

On Sunday, I got another text from Dr Arnold, asking if I wanted to go out for a coffee with him. I was thrilled but nervous. Why would a successful, good-looking man like him be interested in someone like me, especially now he was aware of my slightly strange nature? After what my mother and I had discussed, my faith in doctors as being all-knowing healers had been severely shaken, but I wasn’t seeing him for a diagnosis. When I turned up at the café we’d agreed on, I was surprised to see that he was already there waiting for me. Looking through the window, I noticed him wringing his hands together nervously, which gave me the courage to go and join him. He got up to pull my chair out for me and asked me what I would like before going to put an order in. I was aware of other girls stealing quick glances at him. When he came back with my caramel latte, he started straight off by asking how I was and what I’d been up to. It was flattering to spend time with someone who was so attentive, but I couldn’t help thinking that he must have an ulterior motive for wanting to spend time with me.

“I’m sorry for putting all that rubbish on you when we saw each other out. I can actually be quite normal,” I explained, once we’d run out of small talk.

              “That’s fine.” I laughed at his blasé response. “No, really! I actually find it all quite fascinating. Don’t you think it’s ironic that some people waste so much energy pretending that they do have predictions and insight into the future when someone

who actually does is totally terrified by it?”

              “You believe me?” I asked, shocked by his response.

              “Of course I do. Why would you lie about something like that? Plus, I think it was what your mum was trying to tell me when you were in hospital, you know, without actually saying it!”

              “That sounds like her. We had a really frank talk about it all on Friday night. It’s been a long time coming and I felt so much better afterwards.”

              “Oh, what brought that on?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer his question
. If I tell him what really happened with the visions he might think I’m even more crazy. Or do I skirt around it and act like I don’t trust him?

“Gillian?”

              “Why don’t we talk about something else? Tell me something about you instead. I’m bored of me!” I joked.

              “Ok, what to tell? I was born in Cambridge to Paul and Sofronia Arnold. My sister, Keres, is five years older than me. Part of my childhood was spent in Karia, which is in Erissos in Greece. Keres was actually born there. Erm, my dad, is a doctor. He practiced in Greece, which he loved but now he works in a little practice here. He is a GP and he loves it…” Theo drifted off, as if unsure what to say next.

              “That’s strange because one of the reasons I became a teacher is because it’s what my mum does. Is that why you became a doctor, because your father is one?” I asked.

              “It’s the only reason I became a doctor. My dad always said it’s the most worthwhile occupation a man can have and my mum is an old fashioned Greek woman, who said that being a doctor is a sure-fire way of getting a good wife! I wanted to become a psychologist. I even applied for the degree at university and was accepted. My dad said it was all these silly films like
Silence of the Lambs
that had given me the idea that it would be action-packed and exciting! I find it interesting, though.”

              “So is that why you’re so interested in me?” I asked nervously.

              “Yes,” he said, his face dead-pan. “Absolutely. It’s the only reason. I’m not interested in you because you make me smile or because you are the prettiest girl I think I’ve ever met in my life, besides my mother, that is!”

I blushed at his words and looked down into my latte.

He went on, “Look, the truth is, I can’t pretend not to be interested in what you’ve told me. I am, but there are other reasons why I would like to spend more time with you if possible.” Now it was his turn to blush.

              “It’s possible.”

The rest of our time was spent discussing our very different childhoods. Theo liked the fact that mine had been so settled and I was jealous of his, which seemed so exotic in comparison.

On Monday, I went to work with the thought that no matter how trying my year ten class was, at least I would be able to think about Theo at dinner. Morgan couldn’t wait to tease me about my date with Dr Arnold, asking me whether I would be a kept woman.

I was informed by Corinne that Darren Pierce was back in school with a cast on his hand. She had been to see him that morning and organised for him to have a laptop, which he would be able to use in class until the cast was taken off. She advised me that he didn’t seem in the best of moods, making me feel very nervous about seeing him again. In fact, when he didn’t turn up to his English lesson I was relieved and reluctant to do anything about it, but I did report it.

He didn’t turn up at the start of the lesson. After fifteen minutes, Corinne came to check that I hadn’t accidentally missed him on the digital register. She then went on a manhunt for him. Luckily he wasn’t found during the lesson time. It wasn’t until one of the dinner ladies was taking some boxes out to the recycling bin that he was found, crouched behind the bins, smoking a cigarette. Corinne issued him with a detention so that his behaviour could be discussed formally. Home was contacted and somehow Darren became aware of this. Morgan suggested that his mum must have texted him to let him know that he was in trouble. Subsequently, his mood became worse and his behaviour was so appalling in his afternoon lesson, which was Maths with Hazel, that he was removed and sent to the head teacher’s office. Mr Briggs gave him leave at half past three to go to Corinne’s office and complete his detention but he didn’t turn up. Both Corinne and I waited for fifteen minutes and then went to see Mr Briggs together about our concerns.

“What we’ll do then is phone home and make it clear that Darren is on his last warning. If he misbehaves or truants again, it will be a fixed term exclusion and gradual reintegration into classes,” Mr Briggs declared, much to my pleasure.

I felt guilty, but partially hoped Darren would continue to misbehave so that he would be removed. “I’ll phone home now so we can make sure he has arrived there and ensure that his mum knows how serious this actually has gotten now.” He tapped a few keys on his computer to bring the Pierce household’s phone number up and dialled. It rung for a while and then we heard a woman practically growl hello down the phone. “Mrs Pierce, this is Mr Briggs, head teacher at Logford. I realise you have already been contacted by the school office today to inform you of Darren truanting his English lesson. I’m afraid that the situation has become worse. Darren was returned to class, where he behaved in an inappropriate manner towards his Maths teacher. He was removed to myself and has now chosen to miss his English detention with the head of English. As you can appreciate, a lot of time has been spent with Darren today and this cannot continue…” Both Corinne and I looked at each other in shock as Mr Briggs was interrupted by an angry tirade of words from Mrs Pierce. We couldn’t understand much, but we did hear her shout that it was our job to discipline Darren. She certainly didn’t sound like the meek, concerned, well-meaning but intimidated parent I had imagined.

Her last line before hanging up was, “it’s up to him what he does, isn’t it?”

Mr Briggs looked perplexed and flushed. “Well, I never,” he blustered. “What we’ll do is stick to the plan and if it doesn’t work, we may have to look at permanent exclusion for Darren.”

On the way home, I reflected on how rude Mrs Pierce had been. When I’d been a student at school, I was terrified of our head and even as a teacher, I would never dream of speaking to someone in authority in that manner. Mrs Pierce must either be quite aggressive normally or totally at her wit’s end with her son.

11

Nobody was surprised when Darren didn’t turn up to school for the rest of that week. Gossip about his situation was rife in the staffroom. I heard that his mother was notified by the office staff who were lucky to only need to leave a message on the answer machine rather than have to speak to Mrs Pierce directly. This was good news for me as the year tens were significantly better behaved without Darren there. Ally didn’t challenge me, Phil and Scott turned up to lesson on time and the whole experience was generally much more pleasant without him. Things seemed to be looking up. Theo texted to ask if I would like to go out for a meal with him on Friday night so I had that to look forward to, after I’d finished stressing about what to wear.

“You don’t want to look too easy, so no mini-skirts or really low cut tops. Then again, you can’t look completely unattainable, so work trousers and oversized jumpers are out too!” Morgan advised, not too helpfully. She seemed to be as excited as I was, and I wondered about her love-life. Whether it was these wonderings of mine that triggered the vision, I don’t know, but it was the evening after the discussion that it happened.

              This time I was standing in the kitchen. I’d just clicked the kettle on to make a cup of tea to drink along with the sandwich I was about to make. I felt my knees giving way. It took every ounce of will-power to lower myself slowly to the ground, where I could lean against the cupboard doors while it took me over.

There was Morgan. She was dressed to the nines in a swanky restaurant that I didn’t recognise. She was sitting on a chair looking forwards at a man kneeling in front of her, holding a small box up to her. He opened it to reveal a modest but beautiful diamond ring. Then Morgan was smiling and nodding. This time, I felt myself starting to exit the vision and was able to willingly focus on particular details before I let go of it. I noticed that he had dark hair and brown skin. His name was Raheem, but I wasn’t sure how I knew that. Morgan certainly hadn’t said it aloud.

When the vision had dissipated, I felt less stressed than I ever had after any I could remember. Never before had any of my visions showed a positive event, but surely it was. Morgan had never talked about a boyfriend before, but it must be serious if he was proposing to her. I thought about the time gaps between my visions and the events. Maybe she hadn’t met him yet. It could be a whirlwind romance that was soon to happen. Before any detail could be forgotten, I grabbed a pen and a pad and began making a record of what I had seen.

              On Friday night, sitting in Thai Dreams with Theo, I recalled the vision for him, knowing that he would find it interesting. Plus, I wanted to share what I’d seen with someone. It was like a piece of delicious gossip, even though it hadn’t happened yet. As I expected, Theo wanted to know all the details. When I pulled the pad out of my handbag and showed him all that I’d written, he was fascinated by the amount of detail.

“Wow, you remembered what colour the walls were!” He wasn’t just interested in the content of the vision though; he also wanted to know where I’d been and what I’d been doing at the time.

“So I take it knowing I’m a freak hasn’t put you off yet?” I laughed nervously.

              “Not at all. If anything, it gives you an element of mystique!” he said, pouring us each some more prosecco. “I like listening to you, too. It interests me whether there may be something that triggers the visions. Also, the fact that you were able to control some elements of the experience is mind-blowing.”

              “Maybe that’s what psychics do. Maybe they all start off like me and then learn to control it so they can see what they want to see about who they want.”

              “It’s an interesting theory,” he said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. God, he was cute. “Have you thought about telling Morgan what you saw? Maybe giving her the heads up?”

              “I’ve never really done that before. I may set her up for something that
then
might not happen. What I say could change the outcome. I’m not sure I believe in fate. In fact, I believe that we can change the outcome of anything by free will,” I explained. “If this is the first positive prediction I’ve had, I really don’t want to jinx it.”

              “Free will is an interesting concept,” he said, subtly changing the subject. “If you had chosen not to come to dinner, I would have thought that you weren’t interested and not pursued it any further, but because you chose to say yes, I’m now going to chase you relentlessly until you’re mine!” he joked. I laughed, taking another sip of wine. “But then again, what if you were always going to say yes to dinner because it’s fate that we are here together right now?”

              “You could never test that theory, though, because if I’d said no then you could say exactly the same thing; it’s fate, so that’s the way it’s supposed to be. Are we actually discussing this as intellectuals who are interested in philosophy, or as two people who have drunk rather too much wine?” We both laughed. I was having a great time, so much so, I was disappointed when the restaurant started to empty. Neither of us wanted the night to end, but we were both far too drunk to go on to a club.

              “Can I make sure you get home all right?” Theo asked. “That’s not a euphemism by the way!”

              “That would be nice,” I replied, slightly disappointed that it wasn’t a euphemism. Right then, I wouldn’t have minded. We got a taxi back together and Theo asked the driver to wait while he said goodbye. I was elated when he kissed me, gently on the lips, leaving me with tingling lips, wanting more.

              “You have to promise to get in touch as soon as possible if anything happens with your prophecy,” he entreated.

              “Oh my goodness, don’t call it a prophecy. That makes it sound religious and adds an entirely new dimension of anxiety to the whole thing! Don’t prophets have prophecies?”

              “Ok then, I’ll refer to you as a visionary, instead!” He laughed and kissed me lightly again. The taxi driver honked his horn and Theo indicated one minute to him. “I’d better go. Listen, I like you, Gill. You make me laugh. I’ll see you again soon, ok?”