by Helen Fields
A shriek from down the corridor broke my introspection as Naomi ran towards me full pelt and enveloped me in one of her hugs. It was more than welcome and I hugged her back as hard as I could.
'Careful, your arm,' she said, but I held up the castless limb and silenced her.
'All better, got it taken off early. Now, before you start asking questions, I'm starving. Come on, lunch, I'm buying.' I threw her coat off the stand and led her out of the door. We went to our favourite cafe on Fleet Street and talked wedding venues and bridesmaid dresses (she'd been terrifyingly busy in the last few days) until the food arrived. I tucked into my caesar salad and then Naomi couldn't hold it in any more.
'I know about Nate. I can't believe you didn't tell me! What sort of best friend are you? Okay, I do understand why, but I'm so excited!'
'You're hiding it well.'
'Oh, shut up. Tell me everything. I want all the gory details. Well, not all of them but most of them. Wow, my best friend and my fiancé's best friend, it's like...'
'A really, really bad romantic comedy?'
'Yes, exactly, I love those!' I couldn't help but giggle with her. Naomi's good moods are infectious; the last thing I wanted was to burst her bubble. We gossiped away the next hour talking about Nate and Tim. I knew I had to tell her something of what happened in Brezno. She'd never forgive me if I kept it from her for long. I explained that I'd been with Patrick to see Olga and that my mother had gone to the States with Sabina Roman. I didn't say anything about Perun, Marcus or the baby with Down's syndrome whose whereabouts was a complete mystery. I had a long road ahead of me and I didn't want Naomi fretting.
'The last press release I can find about Sabina says she does a lot of charity work in San Francisco. It's all I have. I can't find her agent, if she still has one, so I have no way of contacting her. I'm going out there, Naomi, I have to find out what happened to Adela Karas.'
'Maybe we could hire an investigator? Surely you don't need to go all that way.'
'I guess with some persistence I could probably get a message to her, but this is a conversation I want to have in person. It's something I just have to do, please say you understand.'
'Of course I understand, I'm just worried about you. It's not like you'll be gone for that long, is it?'
'Six months.' Naomi looked up from her coffee with an expression of disbelief. 'I know, but I've really thought about it. I'm taking some time out of chambers. I've lost my faith in what we do and the people we work with. Since mum died I've been feeling like I'm drifting and this has been the final nail in the coffin.'
'What will you do for six months though?'
'Travel around the States a bit, get some sun. I've got enough money from my inheritance to finance myself. We've already talked about me moving out so that you and Tim can get on with your life together. It makes sense.'
'Have you told Nate yet?'
'No, I'm seeing him tonight. I'm sorry Naomi but the time will go by in a flash. You've got a wedding to plan and I'm starting a whole new adventure.'
'You sure you're not just running away? You've had a dreadful time, I know that, but things will get better, they always do.' Naomi held my hand. She had tears running down her cheeks. I smiled and wiped them away with a napkin.
'There's nothing here for me to run away from. I don't know where I'll end up but I do know that I need to move on with my life instead of sitting around waiting for it to happen. You can come and visit me; you're due some time off. Promise you will.'
'Well, I suppose there are worse places to visit than San Francisco. Of course I'll come.' Naomi has always known when I've made up my mind and she quickly stopped trying to persuade me otherwise. We spent the remainder of the afternoon in chambers where I sorted out plans with my clerks and made a list of the things I needed to get in order.
When I got back to the flat there was a package waiting. Naomi and I opened it together as we always do when an unexpected surprise parcel arrives. Beneath the brown paper was a metal box. At first glance it looked unmarked but when I went into the bright light of the kitchen I could see tiny shallow engravings across the surface like waves. When I couldn't open it Naomi took a hold and slid the top off with her palm like you would an old fashioned wooden pencil box. Inside was the most beautiful locket I’ve ever seen.
Naomi whistled admiringly. 'Whoever sent you that means business, it’s stunning! Do you think it's from Nate?'
I knew it wasn't; it felt like another piece of a puzzle, designed to keep me guessing without giving away any information.
'I think it's from someone I met in Krakow. It looks Slavic.' The locket was old gold with a single, oval emerald in the middle and I slipped it over my head without thinking about it. It was obviously valuable, much heavier than it looked and in the mirror I could see the tiniest catch on one side. I pushed my thumbnail into it and the front of the locket sprang open. Inside, behind glass, was a lock of hair. It was deep cherry red, like mine. I closed it again before Naomi could start asking questions. I took it off to shower before Nate arrived, pushing the locket beneath my pillow for safe keeping. Perun was making sure I didn't lose my desire to follow the trail.
Tim and Nate arrived at the same time and we had a lovely evening chatting and eating the tapas Naomi had put together. I told them the legends of the dragon's cave in Krakow (leaving out the part about how I came by the information), Tim and Naomi talked wedding plans and we all managed to stay off any touchy subjects until Tim asked for honeymoon destination ideas. It obviously made Naomi think of San Francisco so she pretended tiredness and excused herself and Tim for the night. Nate wasn't fooled at all.
'Why do I get the feeling that Naomi was trying to get away as fast as possible?'
'Because she is the nicest person and therefore the worst liar I've ever met.' Nate laughed and we went through to the kitchen to put the kettle on.
'I missed you. You seem to have been gone for ages.' Nate pulled me into his arms. I returned his kiss but he knew I was holding back. 'So why don't I feel as if you've really come back yet?' he said.
'Because I've got to go away again and this time it's for much longer. If we pick up where we left off it'll be that much harder to leave. I'm sorry.'
'I don't want you to be sorry. I do want to understand, though. It's not anything to do with us?'
'God, no, please don't think that. I’ve found information about my birth mother and I can’t get it out of my head. I've decided to follow it up, see where it leads, clear my head if nothing else.'
'Will you come back?'
'I'm sure I will. My place in chambers will be waiting; I'm not burning any bridges. And I can't let Naomi choose her wedding dress on her own, can I? I hope you don't regret what happened between us. I know I don't.'
'Not for a second, I just wish the timing had been better. I'm a bit pissed off that the only interesting woman I've met this year has decided to go half way round the world after one date with me but in some ways I'm glad it's happened before things went any further.' He took his arms from around me and put his hands in his pockets. 'I don't know where I'll be when you're ready to come back.'
'I'm not asking you to wait.'
'I know that. But if you need me, if I can help, then I'll be here. And if in the mean time I meet the woman of my dreams then obviously it's your loss.' He said it with a smile and a wink. I knew he was letting me off lightly. 'It's late. I'd better go.' I didn't try to persuade him to stay, it would have made it worse. He kissed me on the cheek at the door. I had a fleeting sense that I was doing something incredibly ill-judged. Then he was gone and I was alone in the dark wondering if it would all be worth it. I was starting to think it may not be. I crept to bed, half hoping Naomi’s door would open and she would sneak out to see what happened but there was no sign of her.
I'd forgotten the locket during the evening. When I climbed into bed and slid my hand under the pillow the metal was still warm. I put it around my neck and ran my fingers ove
r the symbols engraved on the outside, shutting the clasp as my eyes grew heavy; it had been a day of ups and downs.
I knew I was dreaming. I could turn my head to look around but I couldn't feel my bare feet walking over the forest floor. My feet had no scars, they were pale and perfect. It can only have been a dream because in the real world I was too self-conscious to go barefoot anywhere. All at once there were other people running past me, laughing and shouting to one another. No-one noticed me. Either they couldn't see me at all or I wasn't strange enough for them to stop and stare.
I couldn't see Perun but his presence was all around me. Trees seemed to shift out of my way and were replaced by a moonlit lake. I drifted behind the backs of people sitting in small groups, painting each other’s hands and weaving carved wooden beads into hair. They were preparing for some sort of festival and the atmosphere was charged with anticipation. Motionless at the edge of the lake was a woman on her own, staring into the still water. Her long hair, unbound, fell to her waist the colour of deeply polished cherry wood. I wanted to call out, make her turn round so I could see her face but I was scared of breaking the spell and losing the only sight of my mother that I might ever get.
'She misses you,' a voice, intimate and deep, spoke from behind me. I didn't need to turn to see who it was.
'Perun. Is she real?'
'Of course she's real. She's waiting for you to find her, she’s been waiting forever. She feels the same pain you feel.'
'But this isn't real. This isn't the world I live in. Who are these people?'
'They are your people and they inhabit the same space as you. They are hidden from view most of the time because humans have closed their minds to anything different, anything wild, out of fear I suppose.'
'What about you? Why can I see you already?'
'You’re not the same as the people around you. You felt me before you saw me, remember? You were already searching for something more than the little life you’re living. You can see me because you were looking for me.'
I could hear ringing and tried desperately to ignore it; I didn't want to interrupt the dream. Perun had much more to tell me but he was already fading into the woodland. I spun round to catch one last glimpse of my mother and froze in place when I saw she was looking directly at me. She pressed one finger to her lips and held her other hand up to me, palm forwards. There was no mistaking the message: stay away, she was telling me, keep quiet and stay away. Finally the ringing of my mobile dragged me back to reality. With one hand still clutching my locket as it had when I fell asleep, I answered the phone.
'Miss MacKenzie, Tom here. I don't know how you did it but Mr Brandt has just called about the Cornish case. It seems the prosecution have decided to drop the charges. I've let your solicitors know.' I felt almost deflated, having expected more of a fight from Marcus. It shouldn't have been so easy. I felt sick at the thought that perhaps I’d been played in exactly the same way I'd played Marcus.
The dream had shaken me. I got the feeling that San Francisco was the last place in the world I ought to be going. I looked at the locket and thought of Naomi, Nate and the life I had here. It was an awful lot to throw away but here I was. Goodbyes had been said and I’d resorted to blackmail to free myself for the journey. Now, too late, it wasn’t what I wanted at all. My courage was failing fast.
Twelve
I arrived at San Francisco International Airport in the middle of June to sunshine and balmy temperatures. I climbed into a cab and made my way to a hotel in the South of Market district, close enough to be able to walk to China Town or the waterfront and it wouldn't break the bank. The streets were clean and the buildings were beautifully kept. London looked shabby by comparison. I was struck by how friendly people were and the slower pace of life. I spent the first few days acclimatising and wandering the streets in tourist bliss, from the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz Island to the Museum of Modern Art and Fisherman's Wharf. It was easy to see why so many people named this their favourite city.
On the fifth day it started to rain which I took as a sign to start what I came here for. Armed only with the photo of Sabina Roman, I made my way over to the New Main Library on Grove Street. It took me half a day to find my way around and scroll through press releases but finally I came across some useful information. The last agent on record for Sabina was Solomon's in Geary Street. The rain was still pouring down and it was hard to find the building number. Eventually I found the address although there was no sign for Solomon's outside. I did my best to smooth down my dripping hair as I walked up and down the stairs looking for help and finally found the Pinnacle Talent Consultancy. It was hardly a surprise to find two theatrical agencies in the same building. Geary Street is the theatre district and every agent in town with a big enough budget to pay the rent has set up shop here. I walked in and tried to sound professional to the perfectly made-up receptionist.
'Sorry to bother you, I'm looking for an agency called Solomon's. It's supposed to be in this building. Can you help?'
'This is the Pinnacle Consultancy. Not Solomon's. You've come in the wrong door.'
'Yes, I know,' I smiled and tried again. 'I can't find Solomon's and wondered if you knew which floor it's on.'
'It's not on this floor. Hold please.' She answered a call as I waited. She was the first less than helpful person I'd encountered here. Perhaps it was the pressure of rubbing shoulders with all those stars, but it certainly didn't bode well for getting anything out of Sabina. She typed for a few moments after finishing the call. 'Is there something else I can help you with?' She raised her eyebrows at me. I’d have one last try.
'Yes, I was saying that Solomon's is supposed to be in this building. If I'm in the wrong place perhaps there’s a directory where I could find the right address.'
'I've never heard of an agency called Solomon's anywhere around here so I don't think the directory will help.'
'A current one certainly won’t. If you've got this address then your information is out of date, young lady.' I turned round to find an older gentleman, cane in hand and sporting a well-trimmed white beard looking me up and down. 'Solomon’s didn’t take on any new talent for years before they closed down, so you'd have been out of luck trying to find an agent anyway.'
'Oh no, I'm not trying to find an agent.' I remembered my manners and offered my hand to him. 'I'm Eve MacKenzie. Nice to meet you.'
'Daniel Fortune. What a pleasure to see a young woman who has mastered the art of a good firm handshake. Come into my office, Ms MacKenzie. You look like you need to dry off and I'm a sucker for an English accent. Paris, bring some strong, hot coffee would you please? None of that trash from the machine.'
Paris managed to smile obligingly and look completely pissed off at the same time. I bustled after the man striding ahead of me through the heavy glass doors separating the important from lesser mortals. Daniel stood aside and ushered me into his office. He reminded me of the archetypal southern gentleman from the old black and white movies I watched as a child. I put down my coat and settled into the oversized sofa he motioned towards. Paris was just a couple of minutes behind us with the coffee and I sipped mine gratefully whilst Daniel got himself settled.
'So,' he said as he sat himself across a table from me. 'It's been a long time since I heard anyone looking for Solomon's. What's your story?'
'I'm looking for Sabina Roman. From what I can find, Solomon’s was the last agent representing her.'
'Are you a journalist? Only I'd best warn you now that people in this business are mighty protective of their privacy.'
'No, no, nothing like that. She was a friend of my mother's, I think. I'm trying to put together a bit of history. Do you know where I can find her?'
'Well, Solomon's shut up shop some four years ago. Talent changes faster than fashion and all the names on the books at the time slowly fell out of the public eye. New agencies spring up all the time, younger people, throwing ever more elaborate parties. Three of us partners from Sol
omon's held onto the scraps, joined forces with some up and coming agents and started again.'
'You were part of Solomon's?' he nodded. 'So is Sabina still on the books here?'
'I'm afraid not. She stopped doing any film or television work more than a decade ago. You know about her illness?'
'The Parkinson's, yes.'
'She kept it a great secret for years, exercised, took every medication or therapy going and never went out in public if she was having a bad day. Eventually she knew that she was shaking visibly on camera and couldn’t handle the close-ups. She withdrew from any type of work where her condition was obvious. It was a damned shame if you ask me, she was a great actress.'
'I don't suppose you have any idea where I can find her now do you?'
'I don't have an address for her, if that's what you want and I couldn't give it to you even if I did.'
'I understand and you've been more than helpful already Mr Fortune.' I stood to leave. 'Thank you for the coffee, I'll let you get on with your work.' I held out my hand again to wish him well and he took mine in his own but didn't let go.
'You sure you're not looking for an agent? You have the looks and the voice to get you into any audition you want. Take it from someone who's been around long enough to know.'
'I've never tried to act; I suspect it's harder than it looks. I'd better stick to what I know I'm good at.'
'It's the people who have to try hard who are no good at acting, the real art is in not trying at all. I haven't seen Sabina for years but rumour has it she lives down Carmel way. Last I heard she was working with the Pacific Repertory company down there. I hope you find what you're looking for, Eve MacKenzie. Here's my card if you change your mind.' He finally dropped my hand and replaced his grip with a small business card. I put it in my pocket and gave him a grateful grin.
'Thank you so much. I wish I could repay the favour although I doubt I'll be in San Francisco long enough for that.'