A plan was formed. It had set up permanent residence in my mind and it was going to happen. I was going to do it.
I knew that Nick was never going to speak to me again after what
happened so my death wasn’t worth living any more. . . . Which was just as
well, as my plan wasn’t going to thrill the forces that be. I was going to put
myself so firmly on the keeper’s radar that I was never
coming off.
A tickle of fear lay bound and gagged at the back of my mind.
Interrupting every planned action with a whimper of fear before resolute nerve
ran in to tighten the gag and give the thumbs up to proceed.
First I had to get to Nick’s body; the hotel he had stayed in was
miles away. I had snuck back into the house to check his calendar for the
address and say a tearful goodbye to Hamish. The little feline could sense
something was wrong but had no way to articulate his concern or figure out that
I wasn’t coming back. A constricting final hug and some bumbled advice to stay
away from the dog round the corner was all I could muster.
Standing up to leave I saw Nick sitting in the garden with his back to the house. There were too many feelings to explain. I was devastated to be leaving him, yet I knew it was for the best, I was happy I had found this courage but felt sick to my core thinking of the ramifications it would bring. Who ever invented the phrase ‘broken heart’ couldn’t have had it that bad. Lost love doesn’t just break your heart; it fractures every bit of you, leaving you shattered and struggling to find anything worth living for. Lucky I was already dead. I grabbed a pen and scrawled a final good bye before placing it on the kitchen worktop and leaving the house. One last final look was too much and I closed the front door with Hamish running towards me for a cuddle that I couldn’t bear to give.
After four hours of walking down a motorway, I decided this wasn’t panning out to be the rock and roll heroic mission I had envisaged. The crunch of gravel echoed under my feet for what seemed like forever, the grinding sound of my steps creating a back beat that my body could synchronise to. All that filled my mind was the burning love I had for Nick and it fueled my movements, keeping me going. However the cold nausea of my unknowing betrayal remained; trying to release the restrained fear every now and then before being chased off.
When it started to rain, the fact my body had chosen to feel now,
when I was at my lowest came as no surprise. Droplets of rain wept from the
dreary sky and the stinging cold made it burn like acid. My hair was cemented
to my head, curls plastered to my scalp in submission allowing the water to
flow down my face and hang on my eyelashes, like jumpers who had changed their
mind at the last minute. I wasn’t going to get anywhere fast at this pace. My
legs were trembling from the icy water running over me, clothes unable to
absorb a drop more.
After what seemed like a lifetime of mindlessly trudging forward,
I came across a service station and took refuge in the café attached. Gliding
through the door, I was struck by the cosiness and delicious warmth like a wall
of ecstasy. The café had that comfortable greasiness that came as standard for
a roadside joint. The kitchen was exposed to the diners, allowing the fragrance
of frying eggs and brewing coffee to waft over to the shabby booths. It blended
with the scent of lemon disinfectant that clung to the faded tables and exhumed
memories of childhood road trips and rewards of crisp lemonade after hours of
travelling.
I couldn’t sit at any of the tables, but at the back there was a
low table and children’s play area. After a quick scan of the café’s clientele
I concluded there were no kids to scare and I could sit cross legged on the
floor, out of everybody’s way.
A TV was precariously attached to the wall above the grill and
Nick’s face was pasted across the screen. The police were conducting a search
of the hotel grounds tomorrow morning, but as the tip off came from an
unreliable source it probably wouldn’t stretch as far as the lake. They had
also caught Gav and Kelly trying to board a plane to Thailand, but they weren’t
saying a word to the police. Anything they could get out of them was garbled
paranoia about ghosts, and ghosts don’t exist, right?
I was fixated on the television, adjusting my plans to fit this
new information; so mesmerized that I didn’t notice a small voice sounding over
the din of activity. “Why are you so sad?” I ignored it, used to being
unnoticed and beyond social normality, but it sounded again. “I’m talking to
you lady! Why are you so sad?”
I looked up to see a Chinese boy of about eight sitting opposite
me, with his head in his hands mirroring my posture. I cast my eyes around to
gauge if I was the focus of his concerns, “Are you talking to me?”
Dense ebony hair sprawled enthusiastically across the boy’s head
and his cheeks filled his tiny hands like soft, warm dough shading his eyes.
“Yes, I’m talking to you!”
I had no idea how this boy could see me; he was past the age when
they usually stopped seeing. But at that moment I didn’t care, I was just glad
to not be alone. “I hurt someone I love very much.”
The little boy’s face hunched with worry, “Did you do it on
purpose?”
I shook my head. “Nope.”
“Have you said sorry?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
“And they’re still angry? You must have done something bad!”
“Oooohhh Yes.” Ashamed, I kept my eyes to the table.
The little boy grasped his chin in deep thought. “Have you tried
to make it right again?”
“That’s what I’m doing here; I need to get to a big hotel. . . I
think it’s called the Victoria?”
At mention of the hotels name, the little boy’s face lit up, “I’m
going on a bus, to a big hotel called Victoria with mommy and daddy. Would you
like to come with us?”
It would save me a hell of a walk, not to mention hours of
emotional self-harm; as long as I stayed at the back of the bus and didn’t get
in anyone’s way it shouldn’t do any damage. I had a look around, “Where are
your mommy and daddy?”
He pointed to a couple fussing over a teapot and clunky china mugs
on a table by the door. They looked a little old to be parents to a child so
young, but who was I to judge? Cavernous wrinkles framed their eyes as they
winced at the café’s clammy sandwiches. A wistful sigh escaped me; witnessing a
relationship where words weren’t needed, a single look conveyed everything they
needed it to. It made me long for life, long to love and amble into old age.
“I’d love to come with you.”
A grin spread across the boy’s face revealing a smile patch-worked
with missing milk teeth. He stuck his hand out across the table to be shaken,
the delicate flesh of his wrist decorated with countless hospital wristbands,
“My name is Eric.”
I didn’t want to give the kid nightmares when my hand glided
through his, so offered a coy wave instead. “I’m Jasmine . . . You have lots of
bracelets.”
He fiddled with the bands, awash with shyness. “Daddy says I have
a weak heart.”
I gestured for him to move in closer, “My heart’s a bit weak at
the moment too.”
He looked at my arms, “But you don’t have any bracelets?”
“You don’t get bracelets when your heart is hurting like mine.”
“Would you like one of mine?” Eric gestured, gently tugging the
delicate bands.
“No, it’s fine. You’re very kind though, thank you” The misery
restraining my face momentarily forgot itself when Eric broke into a bashful
smile. He was so Goddamn cute! Travelling with him may be a blessing in
disguise; people soften their emotions with children, keep things light and
cheerful without even realising they are doing it. There was only so far I
could go down the gloomy rabbit hole when he was here.
Eric’s parents began packing up their belongings and putting on
their coats, the boy ran over to them before sprinting back to whisper, “The
bus is outside. Don’t be late!”
I waited for everyone to get on the bus and sit before I ventured
on, I didn’t want to give anyone a spooky shiver. The doors hissed shut behind
me and scanning the uniform rows of faces, I spotted Eric at the back waving
frantically and pointing to the seat beside him, “Sit next to me! Jasmine! Sit
next to me!”
I raised my finger to my lips with a chuckle, his parents didn’t
take any notice but if they heard him talking to me things could get
complicated. I began shuffling down the aisle, trying to avoid any stray
elbows, bags or ankles that would give away the nature of my condition. When I
got to the back of the bus, Eric was tapping the seat next to him and eagerly
whispering, “Sit here! Sit here!”
It was strange someone wanting to sit next to me, no one ever
wanted to sit by me; no one could even see me! I was thrust into my seat by the
bus rumbling into life and pulling out of the service station. Eric grabbed the
chair in front and hauled himself to his knees for a better view down the bus.
“Jasmine . . . what’s your boyfriend’s name?”
My stomach dropped as Nick swamped back into my mind. “I didn’t
tell you I had a boyfriend . . .”
Eric blushed and giggled, “My grandmother always says that a lady
is strong, if she is really upset, it will be because of a man.”
“Your Grandma is a very clever lady . . . His name is Nicholas.”
Eric took this information and mulled it over, “Was Nicholas nasty
to you?”
“No,” Then the memory of Nick yelling at me resurfaced with a pang
of queasiness. “. . . Well, a little . . . but it’s my fault. I need to help
the police find something to make it better.”
“Something like keys!?” the boy suggested bouncing on his knees in
enthusiasm. “Daddy loses his keys all the time and it makes him sad. I can help
you find keys!”
Pouring my heart out and giving this kid a death complex wasn’t
going to help anyone; I needed to change the subject. “Erm . . . something a
little bigger than keys . . . Are you on holiday with your mommy and daddy?”
At mention of his parents, his face lit up. “YES! We are going to
the place where they got married. They decided they wanted me there!”
His enthusiasm was infectious; I could feel it lashing helium
balloons to my spirits and lifting them. “Are you excited!?”
Wild nods of approval and that beaming smile riddled with gaps
answered my question, “I want to go there more than anything! Mummy says some
of the roses in the garden are as big as me! And there are ducks and
boats and bumble bees and ice cream!”
“Bumble bee’s AND ice cream? Wooow!” I couldn’t remember the last
time I had ice cream! The memory of mint choc chip brought a hint of the
flavour back to me with glorious, sickly sweet nostalgia.
Eric continued to chatter
eagerly about feeding swans, picking flowers and rowing boats until his eyelids
began to droop under the weight of the fatigue. Slumped in his seat like a
petite rag doll, he began to slide across the abstract patterns of the busses
upholstery towards me; searching for a shoulder to monopolise as a pillow.
Unfortunately that was a task I was incapable of fulfilling; I scooted across,
further and further until he could lay across the back seat in slumber.
We pulled into the hotels long gravel driveway in darkness; the
winters haste for night pulling the blackness across the land like a blanket.
Gazing out of the window a manor house loomed in front of us. It looked like a
collection of smaller cottages joined into one with the same ivy clad, red
bricks. Eric woke as the bus halted to a stop, rubbing the sleep from his eyes
with tiny balled fists. “Are we here?” he asked, straightening his shirt and
patting his hair down.
I couldn’t tear my gaze from the house; cars looked unwelcome
outside a building this beautiful and this old. They should have been replaced
with carriages and sleek stallions. “We’re here,” I confirmed just as a Keeper
wearing a pale tunic and waistcoat walked round the corner leading a dappled
horse. I quickly averted my gaze, trying to look like I hadn’t noticed him and
not draw attention to myself. Keepers were going to be rife in a building this
old, I needed to keep a low profile and not grab anyone’s attention.
“Are you okay?” Eric questioned, detecting my anxiety.
I shuffled in my seat. “I’m fine. Just want to stretch my legs.”
We got off of the bus last. Eric found his parents unloading their
luggage and ran over to them with the exuberant energy his nap had granted him.
After raving around them for a few minutes he ran back over. “We are going to
look at the garden before bed time, would you like to come?”
The police wouldn’t be here until morning, so I couldn’t think of
a single reason not to. I felt anxious being here; the place where Nick’s life
had been extinguished and where my death was going to end. The air was charged
with possibility, electrified with potential but at the same time the tranquil simplicity
of nightfall prevailed. Everything was peaceful; this place ran at a different
pace to the motorways I had spent the day on and serenity draped the air.
I was going to create such sweet chaos.
