Monday can’t come too soon. Rather than try to brave any shops this close to Christmas, I decide I’m going to treat Ella to a day of activities I think she’ll like. We meet in Queensway because I know there’s a skating rink, bowling alley and arcade all under one roof. Being a Monday they’re fairly empty and Ella is pleasantly surprised when I tell her about my plan for the afternoon.
I discover that she’s never ice skated before, but she takes to it pretty quickly. I’m not bad myself and she holds onto my arm the whole way round the rink, which makes me smile inside and out. After half an hour our legs are aching and I realise that I’m going to have to show off my bowling skills pretty soon. As it turns out, she’s bowled plenty of times before and puts me to shame with her spares and strikes each time. The worst thing isn’t that she’s mopping the floor with me, but that she does it so nonchalantly, asking me questions about my family, my school and everything in between the whole time whilst knocking down pins left, right and centre. After three games I realise I’m fighting a losing battle and suggest we get a bite to eat.
We find a coffee place that seems to serve decent food whilst also being conveniently empty, and as we settle down I try to fire a few questions in her direction in exchange for the Spanish Inquisition she’s been giving me.
"So, are your parents from London originally?" I ask her whilst tearing off a piece of toast.
"Yep, London born and bred, both of them. They died when I was eleven and it’s been me and Agnes ever since. She’s eight years older than me so she kind of took me under her wing, although I don’t know whether that was to my benefit or not." Surprised to hear so much about her life in one go, I try not to bombard her with the questions I suddenly have.
"I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise."
"It’s okay, I guess," she shrugs. "I still miss them, but there’s not much to be done about it now. Agnes and I rent a house with several other people and I started paying my way as soon as I could, so we manage okay," she sounds flat, monotonous even. But I can tell from the way she intentionally keeps her eyes down that she doesn’t want to confront me when mentioning it. I feel lucky for a moment to have two very much alive parents. Although Dad and I have major differences and generally can’t stand each other, Mum will always be there for me.
"You can tell me to bugger off, but how did it happen if you don’t mind my asking?"
"Er, difficult. I want to tell you, but in case of waterworks it’s probably best we save that tragic story for some other time," she replies and when she looks up I can see her cheeks are getting a little red, so I don’t push it further.
"No problem. Some other time." I reach over and put my hand on hers and she smiles at me.
"But I will tell you. I’ve not spoken about it to anyone. Ever. But I feel like I can somehow trust you. I know you’ll be honest with me no matter what happens." I mentally kick myself as I think about the creepy note from last night, but I tell myself that I’m protecting her by keeping it quiet.
"Of course," I say and try to smile to cover my internal debate.
"I know it’s going to sound really corny, but you have no idea how glad I am that you asked me out, Curtis," she says. It doesn’t sound corny at all. It makes me smile idiotically.
"Well, all I can say is that you’ve no idea how glad I am that you said ‘yes’. To be honest, my life wasn’t particularly going anywhere good, and if nothing else you’ve made it interesting," I say, trying to make light of it.
"Unfortunately, I think I’m going to end up making it a whole lot more ‘interesting’. There are some people I really want you to meet. I think you’d like them if you got to know them. But they aren’t the trusting types and I think it would be best that you meet my sister first, as much as I hate to admit it. If you can get into Agnes’s good books, you’re half way there," she grips my hand in hers and I give her my best lopsided grin.
"You make your sister sound like some terrifying boss beast that I’ve got to defeat before I can move up a level," I joke. She rolls her eyes, but I can see that I’m not totally wrong.
"The thing is, now you know about, er, me, you’re inevitably going to end up meeting other people like me, and I’d rather you be prepared. We’re not a trusting sort of people generally."
"And for obvious reasons," I say, briefly mentioning the research that I’d done before the concert. She looks surprised but in a good way.
"You’ve been doing your homework on us," she says, and I hope that she’s impressed. "But don’t believe everything you read on the internet. I’m sure that there are plenty of ‘experts’ that probably don’t have the faintest clue about what they’re writing but are more than happy to sound like they do. Take the Civil Defence Minister, for example."
"That Carlton Munday guy?"
"Yeah. Total pillock. No idea what he’s talking about, but he’s the government’s leading ‘expert’ on Augurs and is bound to get a law passed for us to all be registered and microchipped or something if we’re not careful."
She’s raised her voice a little and I’m worried that someone is going to be listening in, but the place is virtually empty and the barista behind the counter is in deep conversation on her phone. It seems our own discussion isn’t going beyond the two of us and our lattes.
"You seem to have some serious political opinions there, missy," I say, not unkindly.
"Yeah, I bloody well do, but just wait until you meet my sister," she smirks and then gives my hand another squeeze.
"Can I ask you something, completely changing the subject?"
"Oh, please do," she says.
"What’s it like? When you, you know, do your Augur stuff?"
She laughs, and the sound is like music to my ears. I don’t hear it often enough.
"I don’t really know how to explain it, but I could probably show you."
"Show me? Really? How?" My curiosity is piqued.
"Well, I’m guessing that we’re in far too deep now for me to try and hide anything from you. There’s a place I want to take you, but it’ll have to wait until after work. Do you fancy a late night?" she looks expectantly at me.
"With you? How could I say no?" My stomach does that flip flop thing and I try to push the feeling of anticipation down so that I don’t start acting like a nervous wreck.
We finish up our coffees and food and head for the tube station, which takes us all the way up to Hampstead and a short walk to the restaurant. With a bit of aforethought I left some spare clothes in the cloakroom the day before, so I change quickly and we dive straight into the dinner shift.
The evening seems to drag on and I can’t wait for the picky orderers, slow eaters and mean tippers to leave.
We lock up the restaurant and put our coats on, heading out into a damp December night. The streets are lit by Christmas lights hanging from every other lamppost, and the shops that have decided to make an effort have their decorations flickering all night long. If it weren’t for the drizzle and having to trudge through leafy sludge that comes from a mixture of dead leaves and rain, it would almost feel like a Christmas card scene. She puts her gloved hand in my large pocket and I hold onto it like a lifeline.
We walk some fifteen minutes to an open park that sits in the middle of a council estate. It’s the sort that has a low metal fence that anyone can jump over but is symbolically locked every night anyway. The equipment in the fenced-off playground is sad and dreary-looking. Small drops of rain slap onto the softened tarmac from the swings, and the rusted metal glints in the light of the singular streetlamp that stands like a sentinel at the entrance.
"This doesn’t seem like the best place for a demonstration," I whisper, looking up at the looming block of flats with its few lit windows. Other than the rain and our footsteps on the squelching pavement, there’s little noise. A car passes somewhere on a distant road, the sound of it wetly rumbling past just audible from here.
"This is the perfect place, come over here," she leaps the fence agi
lely and I follow suit as she leads me to a small covering of bushes and trees. The surrounding buildings are still visible but there’s no one in sight from what I can tell.
Under the cover of a low tree she pulls me close and removes her gloves.
"Ready?" she asks, and I nod nervously, not really sure of what to expect.
She takes my hand and pulls me into a crouching position on the wet ground, placing my palm downwards between the few tufts of grass that are trying to grow in such a poorly kept area. She puts her hand next to mine and a slight look of concentration crosses her face for a second. To my surprise the soggy dirt becomes very dry right where we stand. What was, a moment before, a muddy patch of earth is now as dry as if it were a summer afternoon. But she’s not done yet. She places her hand over mine and with the other she touches the tree we are standing next to. I feel the ground rumble beneath us almost imperceptibly and a feeling of what I can only describe as an energy impulse surges through my body. Between our fingers grass begins to grow as if it is on steroids. All round us small plants and seedlings are pushing their way to the surface, and within moments we are surrounded by shrubbery that reaches above our ankles. The single streetlamp that had lit the playground flickers on and off a few times, and she takes her hand off the tree. I feel like my hand has been put in a plug socket with the way it tingles, but it’s not an unpleasant feeling.
"Wow. That was amazing. Is that what it feels like for you too?" I ask a little breathlessly. She grins with satisfaction at her handy work.
"I’m guessing so. From the look on your face yeah, that’s how it feels for me too, but possibly more intense."
"Why did you pick here of all places?" I ask curiously.
"A shabby council estate? No one’s going to complain about a bunch of plants sprouting up in the park. They’ll just dismiss it, and there’s no CCTV which means no one is about to catch us. Besides, there’s plenty of energy beneath the ground here thanks to the blocks of flats so close by."
I look up curiously at the ugly buildings that surround us. "So you have to use electricity to make your powers work?"
"Me? Not really. But all Augur power is just energy transference of one kind or another. Most Augurs need to channel something in order to make something else happen. I happen to be one of the few that doesn’t need much at all. I’m kind of a walking energy source all of my own," she shrugs and leads me away from the small garden that she has created, much to the council estate’s benefit.
"Does that mean you’re more powerful than other Augurs?"
"Sort of. Some at least. Not all of them. Plus, lots of Augurs have different kinds of powers. My sister, for example, could never do any of the things that I could do, but she sees things. In terms of making things grow or move or objects obeying her she can’t do much, but she can tell you what you’re going to eat for breakfast in six months’ time on a Tuesday."
"I can probably work that out. It’ll be a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee. What? I’m a creature of habit," I say as she gives me a look. "So, when can I meet this mystery sister of yours? She sounds like quite a character."
"As soon as you like. But I warn you, once Agnes has gotten under your skin she doesn’t get out. She isn’t easy to get on with," Ella warns me with a serious expression.
"And when am I going to have the honour of meeting your parents?" she suddenly accuses more than asks.
"Oh, you don’t want to meet my Dad. He’s awful. I told you, a total Augurist and not a drop of humour in him. Mum would like you though, she’s a nurse," I explain.
"I think I can handle your Dad. He won’t be the first Augurist I’ve ever met and besides, there’s no reason to tell him what I am now, is there? I don’t have any intention of letting the cat out of the bag, so I don’t suppose you will."
With the mention of a cat I think about the odd encounter with the black cat I had the other day. That’s something I do tell Ella as it seems weird enough to bear a mention.
"A black cat you say? Hmm. Could be suspicious," she says looking contemplative as we walk back to the high street.
"Really? Do you think it’s an omen?" I ask quickly, my thoughts flitting to the note on my telly which came immediately after the cat sighting.
"Oh yeah. There’s definitely someone who wishes you ill will," she says seriously. "Maybe I should read your palm just to be sure," she offers a hand and I look gravely at her, putting my hand in hers right before she cracks up and playfully hits me on the arm.
"Curtis don’t be silly. Black cats are just cats that are black. There’s no such thing as omens and I don’t think you’ve got a feline stalker, so don’t worry about it."
I try to feel relieved, but the fact that I had what can only count as a threatening letter after my cat sighting doesn’t make me feel any better.
"I think I’ll take a bus tonight too. It’s late and it’ll take me ages to get home otherwise," I say as we walk to the nearest bus stop.
"Well, there’s that and the fact that you don’t want anyone to be following you," she grins. It’s my turn to roll my eyes as I try not to feel foolish.
"Listen, do you want to come over to mine tomorrow? I’ll be home alone until it’s time to go to work and it would be nice to have the company," I ask, changing the subject.
"Sure, I’d love to," she replies, and I feel like pinching myself. It’s ridiculous to think that I can be lucky enough to have a girl like her in my life. That actually wants to spend time with me, that is.
As we wait under the cover of the bus shelter, she takes my freezing hands in hers and rests her head against my shoulder. Although there are many layers between us, I feel like she can probably feel my heart thudding in my chest. In spite of the cold and the dampness, I can’t help but feel warm inside, and before I know it she’s looking up at me, our noses almost touching. Without warning she leans up and kisses me, her warm lips on my cold ones. I wrap my arms around her waist and feel her hands slide up around my neck and into my hair. Every inch of me feels like it’s lighting up like a Christmas tree. For over a glorious minute we stand there, her mouth on mine, filling me up inside. The only thing that breaks us apart is the sound of a bus approaching and, reluctantly, I have to let her go. I wave at her through the window, grinning stupidly until she’s out of sight, and to my relief I don’t have to wait long for my own bus.
I feel bad about not telling her about the note, but I can’t currently see what good it would do other than worry her. It could be nothing, just like the cat, right?
When I get off just a few minutes from my house I get that horrible sensation of someone following me again. But far worse. For reasons I can't explain I feel a nervous pull in my gut, like I'm walking into danger. I shake my head, as if that will shake out the fear with it. My road is in unexpected darkness. No street lamps, no glow from inside any houses. If it's possible to feel even more freaked out, I suddenly am. I walk hurriedly to my front door. I can't help but think that maybe it's Augur related. Hell, everything is these days. But what if it's just an ordinary power cut? That seems like the more logical explanation I realise. But no part of this feels logical.
My hands are shaking as I find the key hole and fling the door open. The house is silent, and I march down the short corridor to the kitchen. There's a note on the table, and my heart freezes. My mystery stalker. It's a crude, folded-once torn page from a notepad.
I pick it up reluctantly and flip it open. The kitchen light won't turn on, so I use the light from my phone to read it.
Curtis,
Dad and I will be back from Spain on Saturday. There's a few dinners in the freezer if you get hungry but you'll need to do a little shopping if you run out of milk.
Don't forget to turn the heating off before you leave in the evening and make sure the back door is locked.
Lots of love,
Mum x
Relief floods through me. I completely forgot that Mum and Dad were heading for a winter break. There I was,
worrying that they might have been kidnapped or worse. I feel like a total pillock.
I check the back door as instructed and notice the thermostat is turned down, so I leave it off for now. I'll wake up to a cold house in the morning but that doesn't bother me too much. I head into the living room to make sure all the windows are closed, not wanting to take any chances of a mysterious night visitor. Then I do the rounds upstairs and again make sure it's all shut. I think I read somewhere that the largest number of burglaries occur during power cuts as the home security alarms are always disconnected. I brush my teeth and head to my room, grateful that I don't have an early start tomorrow.
With no electricity I have to fumble around in the dark, undressing and pulling on some tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt to sleep in.
I nearly have a heart attack as I pull the covers off my bed and something black shoots off it and across the room. I swear loudly and grab the nearest thing I can find, which happens to be a book, pointing it accusingly at the mysterious creature that I can barely make out in the darkness. I grab my phone and point it at what looks like a darker area of shadow. It's too dark even for the light from my screen to make out. I feel sick with terror, no matter how hard I try to calm myself down. Fumbling with the touch screen I finally get the torch function working, cursing all the while. A pair of yellow eyes glares at me menacingly.
"Are you kidding me?" I shout at the cat, who only narrows its eyes further.
"How the bloody hell did you get in here? I nearly died!" The cat seems not to care that it was almost responsible for my untimely demise and leaps back onto the bed.
"Oh no you don’t," I say, trying to get my window open and remove the intruder. It's not having any of it and digs it's claws deeper into my duvet. No amount of cursing or pushing will make it move, and in the end I give up.
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