He could feel a headache coming on, a slow, intense thumping near the base of his skull. Perhaps Chrissie had been right and it really was too soon. Perhaps he should have stayed at home. Perhaps, if he left now, it wasn’t too late to—
A sudden hush spread through the room. Sam opened his eyes and briefly saw stars. A youngish-looking man in a crumpled suit was standing at the front of the class, a pile of exam papers in one hand and a Star Wars mug in the other.
‘Welcome back,’ he said. ‘Did you all have a good break?’
There were a few half-hearted murmurs from around the room.
‘Well I didn’t.’ He placed his mug on a desk and dumped the pile of papers beside it. ‘While you lot were off munching mince pies, I was marking your mock exam papers. They were, without exception, dreadful. Julius, yours was particularly awful. Julius? Not here today, is he?’ His gaze drifted around the room before settling on Sam. ‘Aha! Santa brought us a new student, it appears. Remind me, it’s…’
‘Sam Rayner.’
‘That’s right. I’m Mr Paxton, and by virtue of being new, Sam, you’re also my star student. Want to introduce yourself?’
Sam hesitated, but it didn’t really seem like he could say no. He nodded and rose stiffly from his chair. ‘Er, hi. My name’s Sam and—’
‘Yeah, I think we established that,’ a boy with dark, slicked-back hair said.
There was a small titter of laughter.
Sam cleared his throat. ‘So, anyway, it’s my first day here. I was supposed to start back in September, but I couldn’t because of an accident—’
A hand belonging to a short girl with green hair shot up. ‘What kind of accident?’
Mr Paxton frowned. ‘Well now, Chantelle, I’m not really sure that’s pertinent.’
‘It’s okay,’ Sam said. ‘It was a plane crash. It was on the news, you probably heard about it.’
‘Oh, you’re that boy!’
A whisper broke out, quickly spreading around the room. As if from nowhere, Sam detected the aroma of burning caramel. He rocked on his heels, the room spinning around him.
‘Er, you don’t look too well,’ Mr Paxton said. ‘Maybe you should sit back down?’
Under the influence of Tetradyamide, Sam had been a government asset capable of tracking international criminals across time, and yet here he was, less than two weeks later, an invalid who couldn’t even introduce himself in front of class. He clenched his jaw and went to lower himself into his seat again, when the room seemed to pulse around him, ballooning to gigantic proportions and then contracting sharply.
As he fell, Sam tried to catch the edge of his desk and missed. He was vaguely aware of the classroom floor rushing up, and then the world shrunk to a point. Just before darkness snapped shut around him, an image popped into his head. It was a man with a smile like a wolf baring its teeth.
5
Sam blinked and the world slotted into focus. He was back home, sitting at the head of the kitchen table. Although he was wearing the same clothes, the section of sky visible through the French doors onto the garden was now dark. Lance and Chrissie were sitting to his left and his grandparents to his right. His mother was staring at him from the opposite end of the table with deep, sunken eyes.
It was happening again. With the epilepsy medication out of his system and Tetradyamide no longer controlling his seizures, Sam was having another fit like the one at his dad’s funeral. He tried to let out a groan, but discovered his mouth was full of a biscuit he didn’t remember eating and instead coughed, spraying crumbs across the table.
‘Dude, take it easy,’ Lance said, and gave him an unnecessary slap on the back.
Chrissie, who’d been watching with a pinched expression, let out a tired sigh. ‘There has to be something we can do, doesn’t there?’ she asked. ‘A right of appeal or something? I can’t seriously believe they’d take all that money for all those years and end up giving us nothing.’
‘Bollocks,’ their mum said.
In all his life, the strongest curses Sam could remember her using were ‘sugar’ or ‘fiddlesticks’, and although he wasn’t sure if what she’d just said constituted a swearword, it was the closest she’d come by a long way. Ordinarily he might have laughed, but now it only reminded him of how changed she was from the person who used to smother him with so much affection it was nearly impossible to breathe.
Chrissie’s lips had tightened to thin, colourless lines. ‘Please, Mum, you don’t know that,’ she said. ‘It’s worth looking into, at least.’
‘If you think they’ll pay us another penny then you’re on another planet, Chrissie. It’s how these companies work. It’s how they make their money.’
‘But over one missed payment? I just—’ Without warning Chrissie’s voice cracked and she burst into tears.
‘I’ll find another job,’ Lance said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. ‘Something that pays better than Burger Emporium.’
Sam’s mum snorted and folded her arms. ‘Oh good, that’s settled then! I’m sure there’ll be employers queuing up around the block with your extensive qualifications and work experience.’
‘Leave it out, Mum,’ Chrissie said, and reached up to squeeze Lance’s hand. ‘At least he’s trying to think of something positive we can do.’
‘I’ll get two jobs if I have to,’ Lance muttered.
Sam’s mum glared at them, until, out of nowhere, her face changed. ‘Is that a new kettle?’ she asked, craning her neck. ‘What happened to my old one? Matthew? Matthew? Where has your father got to?’
Sam covered his face with both hands. ‘Guys, stop it,’ he said. ‘I mean, what are you even arguing about?’
His grandmother reached over and patted him on the arm. ‘Oh dear, pet, maybe you should go and have another lie down upstairs? Remember what the doctor said, that stress only will increase the likelihood of another episode.’
‘Grandma, this has as much to do with him as it does with any of us,’ Chrissie said. ‘He’s almost seventeen, and it’s not like anyone else here is full of ideas.’
‘Will someone please just tell me what’s going on?’ Sam asked, raising his voice.
His sister sighed and shook her head. ‘A letter arrived from the insurance company today. Apparently Dad missed a payment last summer and they’re cancelling his life insurance policy. We could lose the house, Sam.’
6
Sam was lying on his back. His head hummed and fizzed like something in his brain had short-circuited. Directly above him, a black-and-yellow HB pencil hung by its point from a polystyrene ceiling tile.
‘Sam, can you hear me?’
He glanced to his side. Mr Paxton was crouched beside him, his face lined with concern. Sam’s new classmates were gathered in a circle around them, their expressions ranging from mild amusement to shock.
Gingerly, he propped himself up, then wiped his mouth and looked down to see a smear of blood on the back of his hand.
‘Come on, let’s get you up,’ Mr Paxton said. He slid his hands under Sam’s arms and eased him to his feet.
At that moment the classroom door flew open and the girl with green hair came running in with Lewis close behind.
‘Mate, what happened?’ Lewis asked, stepping through the crowd. ‘Chantelle said you collapsed or something.’
‘It’s happening again,’ Sam said.
‘What, your epilepsy’s come back?’
‘Yes. I mean no. I mean…I dunno, I think I saw something that hasn’t happened yet.’
‘Come on people, back in your seats!’ Mr Paxton said, attempting to regain some semblance of order. ‘Lewis, Chantelle, take Sam to reception, then come straight back to class. I’m trusting you both here.’
Lewis nodded, lifted Sam’s arm over his shoulder and started guiding him to the door, while Chantelle took the other side, which didn’t help much given their difference in height.
‘Sorry about this,’ Sam mumbled as they rode the lift
to the ground floor.
Chantelle looked up and grinned. ‘Don’t worry. If it gets me out of class for a bit, feel free to collapse any time you like.’
The doors opened and they guided him out and across the courtyard before entering the main building. The reception desk was located in a sky-blue room beside the entrance.
‘Back so soon?’ the receptionist asked, eyeing Sam unsympathetically as Lewis and Chantelle steered him into one of the plastic chairs lined along the wall.
‘He passed out,’ Chantelle told her, ‘right in front of everyone. Bang, crash, and onto the floor! You should’ve seen it.’ She rolled her eyes back so only the whites were visible and started jiggling her body as though she were being electrocuted. Eventually she stopped, lowered her arms and gave Sam an embarrassed smile. ‘No offence, but that’s what you looked like.’
‘Um, none taken, I think.’
‘Listen, Sam, I’m going to give your sister a ring,’ Lewis said, and headed back into the corridor with his phone pressed to his ear.
‘I remember your file now,’ the receptionist said. ‘It says you suffer from epilepsy.’
‘It does?’ Sam said.
‘Hang on, it’s right here.’ She span around in her chair, opened a filing cabinet behind her and began rummaging through the top drawer. After a few seconds she turned back with a file and pulled out a sheet of paper. ‘See for yourself,’ she said, and passed it over.
Although it was the first time Sam had laid eyes on the document, he instantly recognised his own handwriting. Under a section labelled Existing Medical Conditions were the words ‘I have epilepsy’ and then, close to the bottom, his mum’s signature in the box marked Parent/Carer Consent.
‘I’d better get back to class,’ Chantelle said, and slipped out, turning in the opposite direction down the corridor.
‘We keep some of your medicine onsite, if I remember correctly,’ the receptionist said. ‘Would you like me to fetch it for you?’
‘No!’ Sam blurted out. ‘I mean, I think I’d rather just go home, if it’s all the same.’
At that moment Lewis returned, providing a timely distraction. ‘Chrissie and Lance are on their way,’ he said, sliding his phone into his pocket as he took the chair next to Sam. ‘So, looks like your medication’s stopped working then.’
‘Huh?’
‘That was your first seizure since your dad’s funeral, no?’
‘Oh,’ Sam said. ‘Yeah, suppose it must be.’
‘Listen, what you were saying about seeing something that hasn’t happened yet—’
‘I was just a bit confused,’ Sam said, glancing at the receptionist. ‘That’s all.’
Lewis stared at him intently, then shook his head. ‘If you say so. It just reminded me of what happened last time. You know, at your dad’s funeral when you started getting all worked up about making a phone call. It always stuck with me because, when I brought it up a few days later, you couldn’t even remember it happening.’
Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. Obviously that conversation had taken place with a different version of him. More than anything he wanted to tell Lewis the truth, but it didn’t seem right to burden his friend any further, and with the receptionist in earshot now definitely wasn’t the time.
Lewis’s phone beeped. ‘Chrissie and Lance will be here in five minutes,’ he said. ‘Come on, I’ll walk you to the car.’
* * * * *
Sam’s seizures had returned, and without Tetradyamide to suppress them he had little reason to believe they wouldn’t continue to do so.
‘I can’t believe this is happening again,’ Chrissie said, verbalising his very thoughts as they pulled up outside the house.
‘I know,’ he said, and climbed out.
‘I don’t get it, especially after you’ve been so good about taking your pills.’ His sister shook her head and began up the path. ‘I suppose I’ll just have to make another doctor’s appointment and see if they can give you something stronger. And I think you should take the rest of the week off college. At least.’
‘I’ve got to agree with her there,’ Lance said.
‘Okay,’ Sam said. He didn’t have the energy to protest, and wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and pull the covers over his head. Life in this reality felt like one big deception, and his sister being alive was just about the only positive. ‘By the way, everything’s all right with the house, isn’t it?’
Chrissie paused with her key in the lock and frowned before turning it. ‘Yeah, why do you ask?’
‘So there wasn’t a letter from the insurance company this morning?’
‘No. Why would there be?’
‘No reason,’ he said, and followed them in.
As he went to close the door, the postman turned down their path, walked up to him and handed over a stack of letters. The envelope on top had the Imperial Insurance logo in one corner. Sam tore the seal open, his heart sinking as he pulled out the page inside.
7
Chrissie was back in Dr Wallis’s office for the second time in as many days. Things had really been looking up over Christmas with her mum coming home from hospital and Sam seeming so much better, but in the last forty-eight hours fate had stuck the knife in and twisted once more. Now, in addition to the increasing discomfort of her pregnancy, she had to contend with the news that her mother might never get better, that her brother’s fits had returned and (cherry on top) that the insurance company were cancelling her dad’s life insurance policy. If she hadn’t felt so much like crying, she might have laughed.
Dr Wallis leaned back in his chair and pressed his fingertips together. ‘So, Sam, it appears that your medication is no longer preventing your seizures. It’s a shame, really, because Oxcarbazepine is one of the most effective anticonvulsants on the market, but at this stage I think our best option might be to try one of the alternatives. While we wait to see how effective your new medication is, you should try to avoid stressful situations that might increase the chances of another episode, which will mean no school for a few days, I’m afraid.’
Sam looked down and wrung his hands.
‘Thank you,’ Chrissie said. ‘We’ll do whatever you recommend, won’t we, Sam?
Her brother looked up and gulped. ‘I…I…there’s something I need to tell you. The reason I had a seizure today is because I haven’t been taking my pills.’
‘What are you on about?’ Chrissie asked. ‘I’m the one who’s been giving them to you. I’ve seen you taking them.’
Sam shook his head and looked down again. ‘No,’ he said to his hands. ‘I’ve been spitting them out when you weren’t looking.’
Chrissie straightened in her chair, heat flushing through her body. ‘I don’t understand, why would you do a thing like that?’
Sam shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ he said eventually. ‘They make me feel funny. I don’t like taking them.’
‘Well now—’ Dr Wallis began, but Chrissie was already out of her seat.
‘God, how could you?’ she yelled, jabbing a finger at Sam. ‘As if I didn’t have enough on my plate already with Mum and the whole Imperial Insurance thing!’
Before he could respond, she turned away and strode from Dr Wallis’s office, slamming the door behind her. Sam caught up just as she’d stepped through the automatic doors.
‘Leave me alone,’ she said. ‘I’m so angry I can’t even look at you.’
‘Please, Chrissie, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.’
‘To be honest, Sam, I’m not interested in your apologies or your excuses. I’ve been so worried about you, but you treat your epilepsy like it’s a big joke.’ She pulled his pills from her handbag, shook the packet under his nose and then held it over the bin by the door. ‘I mean, is there even any point me even carrying these about anymore?’
Sam stared back, his shoulders trembling.
‘Didn’t think so,’ Chrissie said, and dropped the packet in.
8
Sam was at the desk in his room, staring down on the packet of epilepsy pills he’d fished from the bin at the doctor’s surgery after Chrissie had stormed off. It seemed he faced a simple choice: either continue as he had been and keep lying to his sister and everyone he cared about, or take one of the little triangular pills in the hope that his medication would suppress his fits again and allow him to return to something close to an ordinary way of life.
An ordinary life.
But what would that be like? Eva was gone, his mum had amnesia and his dad was still dead. Imperial Insurance were about to leave the family penniless and, in all probability, homeless. And, just to top it all off, he had the Thames House bombing on his conscience, while Esteban Haufner was somewhere out there, walking about scot-free. But after watching Chrissie die on Christmas Eve, Sam couldn’t bring himself to let her down again. Saving her was the reason he had decided to alter the timelines in the first place, and there were no guarantees he could fix his problems even if he didn’t start taking his medication.
He bit his lip, opened his desk drawer and placed the packet inside, if only to remove it from his line of sight. What he needed was a distraction, something to temporarily take his mind off the decision he couldn’t make, so he switched his computer on and logged in to his email account.
There was a reply from Doug waiting at the top of his inbox:
Hi Sam,
Good to hear from you. The girls are well and send their love. I was supposed to be in London for a few months, but following the bombing the bank instructed all non-British employees to remain out of the region until things settle down.
Please pass on our best wishes to your mom. I can’t tell you what a relief it is to hear that she’s woken up and is back home with you. I hope you don’t mind, but I discussed her condition with a doctor friend of mine, who mentioned a pioneering new treatment for Post Traumatic Amnesia. I’ve pasted a link below.
Ripples of the Past Page 8