‘You’re OK, Tom,’ she told him, though her voice seemed somehow very distant. ‘You’ve been involved in a traffic accident and we’re taking you to the hospital. Stay with me, now. Do you hear? You must try and stay with me.’
But he didn’t feel inclined to do that. He was tired, so very tired. Instead, with some difficulty, he slid a hand down into the pocket of his coat and felt the reassuring touch of cold metal against his fingertips. He took the pocket watch out and held it up where he could see it. He flipped it open. It was proof, he thought sadly, the final proof he had always wanted.
‘Now, now, we don’t need that,’ said the woman, and tried to take it from him, but he brushed her hands away. He looked past her to his mum, sobbing in Hamish’s arms, and tried to give her a reassuring smile, but he realised she wouldn’t see it behind the mask. He knew what he had to do now and he thought he had finally mastered the way to make it happen. As he looked at Mum, he noticed one last detail. Perched on a metal rail on one side of the ambulance sat a magpie, its head tilted to one side. It was watching him intently. Nobody else in the ambulance seemed to be aware of it.
Tom concentrated on the watch, concentrated all that was left of his conscious mind. And as he stared at its face, something weird happened. The hands of the watch started to go backwards. He almost laughed, but he didn’t have the strength for that. He knew it was working. Then the things he wanted to happen began to happen. He felt the stretcher beneath him turning soft and insubstantial. He heard the ambulance woman’s incredulous cry, mingled with the soft beat of the magpie’s wings as they blurred into motion. And he finally understood why the bird was there, why it had been there from the very beginning. It was his guide. It was there to bring him home.
Then the ambulance was gone and he was drifting downwards, weightless, like an autumn leaf falling in the night. The black and white wings beat rhythmically above him, lulling him, calming him. He seemed to fall for a very long time, but that didn’t surprise him, because he knew that he had a long way to go.
When his feet finally thumped against boggy ground, he knew exactly where he was. He was still holding the watch. It had come with him, because it was touching him and it had somehow survived the journey, even though it hadn’t been created yet. The hands were still now, because he had come to a halt and he was right where he wanted to be. It was just a little after two o clock in the afternoon. He took a moment to gather his thoughts. He looked down at his open shirt, concerned that maybe the injuries had travelled with him too, but he was relieved to see there were no wounds on his chest, just the little red marks where monitors had been stuck to his skin. What was it McSweeny had said to him on the park steps?
‘Don’t you understand. Haven’t you caught on, yet? Time doesn’t exist. It’s a concept created by man. There are no rules, none of it makes any sense.’
That might be true, but he knew where he was now and it was exactly where and when he wanted to be. And this time, he told himself, this time he was here to stay. It was very cold and he quickly buttoned up his shirt and shrugged his winter coat tighter around him.
Then he turned his head to look downhill and she was exactly where he’d expected her to be, just as he’d pictured her in his head before he set off. She was cloaked and bonneted and she was walking away from him, descending the hill, her head bowed in evident sorrow. He grinned and relished the moment for a few seconds. He wasn’t worried about a thing. He knew now that he had all the time in the world to spend with her. When he felt ready, he cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted her name.
It echoed across the hillside.
She stopped. She turned. Even at this distance he could see the smile of delight on her face as she lifted a hand to wave at him.
Titles in this series
Crow Boy
Seventeen Coffins
One for Sorrow
One for Sorrow Page 17