‘What! Warn him off–?’ as I said this, I had a vague idea of who it might be.
‘Someone called Owen.’
‘Owen,’ I muttered, setting my teeth. ‘That idiot! And I think I can guess what’s been said.’
‘Well,’ she began, licking her lips, ‘he told Mark you were a liar and deceitful, and that you slept around, was a bit of a head case and even got him into a fight or something.’
‘Is that all?’ I laughed scornfully.
‘To be honest, Alex, I don’t even remember you going out with anyone called Owen.’
‘It felt longer than it was.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘I’d like to forget it myself, Stace. – Okay look, he was dating a girl at our school and used to meet her there. I didn’t know that at the time, but he told so many lies. He became possessive and controlling. Anyway, I had to dump him and he didn’t like it. He accused me of all sorts when I told him it was over. After about a week he turned into my stalker. He followed me like a shadow wherever I went, and met me like a reflection at every turn. Remembering that I ever dated him still disturbs me.’ (It got the better of me now and I shuddered at the thought of him.) ‘And if Mark wants to believe his crap he’s welcome to. I won’t have anything to do with it.’
‘I don’t even think Mark knows him that well, from what he said.’
‘Then more fool him. He could’ve just asked me about Owen. I can’t believe this is why he was so rude to me.’
She grinned. ‘He was so shocked when I told him how well I knew you. Ben even said that he knew Owen and thought he told loads of lies. Mark was all like “Do you know she’s a nice girl then, really?” and I was like “Duh! I went to school with her. I think I would know!”’
‘Well, thanks, Stace, for sticking up for me. But I’m glad it panned out this way. Now I know what he’s really like. Imagine getting involved with someone like that, who treats people like crap because of something someone said.’
‘I did feel a bit bad for him though,’ she sighed. ‘I always thought he was alright.’
‘He probably is to a degree, but to be so feeble-minded.’
Stacey nodded before sucking noisily on a chunk of her hair. We reached the secluded Sunken Garden, entering from a set of narrow stone steps hidden by hedgerows. Stiff grey cumuli now daubed the bright sky. I was surprised to see spectres of mist floating through the garden up ahead. I mentioned nothing to Stacey, who hadn’t noticed, and wouldn’t stay long if she did. We found a bench and sat down to eat.
‘Well, anyway,’ she picked the subject back up. ‘I told Mark that you weren’t like that at all – and I should know. He asked me some stuff about you.’ (Which meant she’d volunteered it along with my vital statistics and blood group.) ‘He really was feeling bad about it. He asked me if I thought you’d forgive him, which I said I thought you would, and so I think he’s going to call you.’
I said nothing, remembering how the man with the goatee had looked at me outside The Grapevine.
With her excitement over Mark and myself bled dry, Stacey went off on another topic. I was still mulling things over in my head, naturally. I became aware of Stacey still talking between mouthfuls of sandwich, when I heard her mention Frances and how much she adored her.
‘But that other guy,’ she said, nodding towards the house, ‘the one who works with the ghost – I can’t remember his name – he’s a nightmare! Can’t stand him!’
‘You mean Daniel? He’s really nice! Stacey, you didn’t go saying things to Dan about Thom, did you?’
‘I only asked if he thought Thom was strange, too. I said it like a joke anyway!’
‘Oh, God, what did he say?’
‘He goes, “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” and pointed behind me. I thought he was pulling my leg, but when I turned around the ghost was standing right there. He must’ve come through a wall or something! I got this big shiver down my spine, like someone put ice cubes down my back.’
‘So how did you get out of that one, Stace?’ I couldn’t hide my smirk, as much as she couldn’t hide a blush.
‘I didn’t even know if he’d heard me.’ She pressed her teeth together. ‘But that bloody Daniel really stirred it up, because he started repeating what I’d said to him.’ – Stacey here impersonated Dan in a stupid voice: ‘“Stacey was just telling me how strange you are, Thom. She also claims to have seen your doppelganger-thing. You’re not moonlighting at the London Dungeons, are you?” He was laughing at me; had this big stupid grin on his face!’
‘Which one?’
Stacey cocked her head and smiled stupidly.
‘No, silly!’ I nudged her. ‘Not which grin! Which one was grinning?’
‘Oh, both of them at first, they’re both horrible. But Thom started to look serious. He was trying to make a joke of it, but I could tell it bothered him. He went paler than normal, if that’s possible, and asked me if I’d “Really seen his twin?” and “How exact a copy was it?” – I didn’t know how to answer him; his question was so weird. I’m not even sure what doppelganger means anyway, other than I think it’s someone’s look-alike. Daniel started laughing a lot, so maybe Thom was winding me up. I basically had to confess that it was just a pale-faced man in the Dungeons. I didn’t say that he was pretending to be a dummy, but Daniel filled him in on that too. It was so embarrassing.’
‘I bet.’ I giggled. ‘I’m a little embarrassed for you.’
In less than a minute she was smiling awkwardly. ‘I don’t give a toss anyway. It’s not my fault they can’t take a joke! And besides, that Daniel is so gay for him.’ Her eyes shifted artfully. ‘Do you think Thom’s good looking?’
‘What? I… I haven’t really thought about it.’
‘What’s there to think about?’
‘Well… I don’t think he’s ugly.’
‘But he’s so scary!’
‘What is it with you and that word?’
‘But he is! He’s almost like deformed or something.’
‘Deformed?’ I frowned at her. ‘Stace – what a horrid thing to say! He’s not deformed.’
‘You know what I mean! There’s something odd about him.’
‘But why do you keep saying scary?’
‘Because when he looks at me I feel like he’s gonna kill me, Alex.’
I laughed.
‘So, then, you don’t think he’s good looking?’ she fished again.
‘I try not to think of people straight off like “wow, he’s good looking – oh, isn’t she pretty”. He might be a monster. She might be a cow. People become more or less attractive on the outside as a reflection to what’s on the inside.’
She looked at me vacantly.
‘I wouldn’t have said he was particularly good looking, Stace, no. Nor would I say anything to the contrary. That’s my opinion on it. That’s the way my brain works.’
‘Why do you make it so complicated?’
‘Put it this way. Do you still think your ex, Ben, is yummy? You did once, remember.’
‘Don’t make me sick.’ She scrunched her face up like a child having it washed with a flannel. ‘He’s so butters! I can’t believe I ever fancied him.’
‘Exactly. It’s nothing to do with his looks. It’s just because your feelings have changed.’
‘I s’pose. Speaking of looking good,’ she said, cringing back slightly. ‘I think you could try harder.’
‘Thanks, Stace! Has someone put you up to this?’
‘I just mean that you’re a makeup disaster! You don’t wear anything on your eyes, and you could look so much better. Here – I’ve got this mascara you can have. I picked up a brown one by accident and I can only wear black.’
‘Thanks, but I’m not really into the stuff.’
‘You’ve probably never even tried it, Alex.’
‘Of course I have, I just don’t–’
‘Take it please! I’ll only throw it away otherwise. Just keep it in case you fancy making your eyes stand out a bit.�
� She cast a squinted look over me. ‘Not all the time, but today they look like pinholes.’
I rolled my pinholes at her and put the mascara into my jacket pocket.
‘How old do you think he is?’
‘Who?’
‘The ghost, silly!’
‘I don’t know, Stace – ask him. Somewhere in his twenties, probably. Come on, we’d better get back.’
After lunch I returned to the front desk where, for several minutes, my mind revolved on the subject of Stacey and her sudden interest in Thom. Rather than believing her to pay genuine notice to him, I much rather thought that something had been said to make her ask questions. I had no doubt who that someone was. Whenever there was gossip, Stacey went to Mrs Evans like a drunk goes to the bottle.
It started raining and the Cray filled with shelter-seeking visitors. They kept me busy with questions, but not too distracted from what I’d seen, or rather hadn’t seen, earlier today. I had only looked for a moment, I told myself repeatedly. But with so many people around surely someone else would have noticed. Or would they? How many times do you look at a man’s shadow?
Eight
PETER PAN’S SHADOW
‘He moves like no other, just as the moon – and like that symbolic sphere of lunacy he hides a dark side he’ll betray to no one.’
Some nights later a storm woke me in the early hours. Thunder growled outside in beats and claps, while rain pelted my bedroom windows. I wouldn’t be able to sleep through it, nor did I want to miss a good storm. I got up and went to the window, opening it a fraction. The smell of the sodden air awakened me. I grabbed my book (Frankenstein, of all things) and sat there to read. Lightning struck under the clouds in various quarters of the bruised sky, illumining every raindrop as they fell long and vertical like millions of needles.
I soon found myself imagining what it was like at the Cray with this beast of a storm raging through the deserted gardens. The river would be running wild and black. I could almost hear the footsteps of the ghost lady in the empty turret. Every chimney would let the wildness of it in. How strange it must be to live there. Perhaps it suited Thom, or Thom suited it.
Once back in bed I dreamt of Stacey trapped in the Cray. Terrified, she screamed blue murder before suddenly becoming me, and the sound of my own screams woke me in the form of my alarm clock.
The day was very fresh, as is usual after a storm. That afternoon I found Mrs Evans had me down for the front desk. The Cray was quiet. I could hear the hum of the central heating struggling to keep the place warm. Since Mrs Evans regularly had the radio on here, I ran the risk of listening to my MP3 with just one headphone in. I was miming lyrics to a favourite song while drawing in my sketchpad. I didn’t see him standing in front of me. I started. Thom slowly folded his arms across the desk and leant a little over it, as if to snoop around. Instead, his black eyes just burrowed into mine.
‘They do say that the first sign of madness is talking to one’s self,’ was his opening line.
‘I was miming song lyrics.’ I pointed to my plugged ear.
‘Always on the defensive! What more proof do I need? Since they say that the second sign is denial,’ he added with relish.
If I weren’t insane already, I soon would be from all the lambasting I got on the subject from this character. I wanted to look away and adopt aloofness, but the competitor in me met his gaze with a childish determination to win, viz. to make him blink first. I failed. He stood there in a deep blue shirt, his eyes solidly fixed seemed to go on forever as a starless night sky.
‘Has anything arrived for me today?’ he asked, changing the subject, and releasing me from another staring competition.
‘Mrs Evans deals with the post on weekdays. I’ve only just started my shift. She’s in the shop if you want to ask her.’
I went on sketching; he went on watching.
‘What are you scribbling at there?’
Reluctantly, I showed him. It was just a pencil sketch of a horse set against a run of mountains. He surprised me by taking it from my hand and examining it up close.
‘Hmm.’ He mused. ‘Is this really yours?’
‘No. I stole it.’
He mused longer. ‘These obscure eyes in the mountains are vaguely familiar.’
‘What eyes?’ I frowned, looking over.
He pointed out two almond-shaped details, which I could see resembled a penetrating stare framed by a rugged mountainous brow. I didn’t realise I’d drawn them. He read my face.
‘Ah, perhaps the voices in your head told you to conceal them.’
‘You’re just jealous,’ I replied, ‘because the voices don’t talk to you.’
‘Bastards!’ He smirked, returning my sketchpad. ‘You’ve talent, Alex, and passion, but you lack precision. Practice can easily correct that. Certainly, the mane is too fine for horsehair. Where are you copying it?’ He inspected my desk.
‘From my head.’
‘Well, in that case, for a’ – he ran his eye over me, uncharacteristically pausing for an epithet to call me – ‘for a young woman, it is unique.’
‘Thank you, I think.’
How long was he going to stand there? I wanted to listen to my music.
‘Are you sure there’s nothing back there for me? I’m expecting something.’
The sooner I found the package he was after, or verified it wasn’t here, the sooner he would move along before I was yet again pronounced a lunatic. I began searching the desk, round the scarce items on it, giving an involuntary sigh as I did so.
‘There doesn’t seem to be anything here.’
‘Well don’t torment yourself,’ he slammed in unexpectedly. ‘It’s probably still on its way.’
‘Probably,’ I affirmed.
I unplugged my ear since he remained there and I didn’t want to be rude. There was just no denying the extent of how he got under my skin. I felt it like one of those itches that you can’t locate and so find yourself scratching everywhere in vain to alleviate it.
‘You won’t score any points with Mrs E.’ He pointed to my headphones as I wound them up.
I shrugged my shoulders confidently.
‘It’s your funeral.’ He stared darkly. ‘What does that brazen smile mean?’
‘Nothing. I’ll take my chances.’
‘I’m sure you will.’
‘If the package you’re waiting for is urgent I can go and ask Mrs Evans myself, or–’
‘Never mind that.’ He lent back off the desk. ‘How are you enjoying working here?’
I took a deep breath. I had to be careful of what I said.
‘It’s as good a place as any to work,’ I replied, ‘but better than most to be.’
‘How’s that?’
‘I’m very fond of this place.’
‘Really?’ His lips curled up at the sides. ‘I shouldn’t be surprised. The general lack of padded cells and straitjackets are no doubt comforting to you. Still, I would think you might find it a little too lifeless?’
‘Not in the least.’
‘You don’t tire easily of the mindless chatter that goes on between those who’ve nothing better to do?’
‘I couldn’t care less what they talk about.’
‘So in your opinion what’s worse,’ he went on, ‘someone talking badly of people or someone prejudging those on what’s being said?’
After my trivial experience with Mark, I thought I could empathise with him to some extent on the subject. I was also doing my utmost to put aside what I had heard and not seen.
‘Neither is worse,’ I said, ‘because you shouldn’t care what people think of you, nor what they say. It would in itself determine whether someone is worth knowing.’
‘My sentiments exactly!’ He beamed.
I looked back to my desk. ‘Some people here I might grow to like and some I might not. As I said, I’m fond of this place.’
‘You don’t find it eerie?’
‘I like eerie.’ I raised
my head to meet his stare full-on. ‘What’s wrong with eerie anyway? People are always complaining and getting goose-bumps every time a door creaks. Anyone would think that the dead were wandering about before their eyes.’
He half-smiled. ‘Perhaps you’re just untried. I wonder what you would do if the dead appeared before you.’
‘I’d probably complain about the smell, since dead things smell bad.’
‘Is that so?’ He laughed, showing his dimples. He turned to face the empty corridor, as if expecting somebody. I couldn’t hear anyone approaching. Then I caught Daniel’s voice speaking to someone as he turned into the hallway and eventually came into view.
‘Speak of the Devil!’ he hollered, referring to Thom, though addressing a brunette woman walking in very high heels at his side. The lofty shoes made her appear almost as tall as Thom.
‘I believe you know this lady,’ Dan continued.
‘Of course he does!’ she snapped. ‘Silly monkey!’
‘Carla-Louise,’ he said deliberately, smiling, ‘would like to donate an antique banner to one of the period collections. Take a look at this.’
He excitedly unfolded a black flag emblazoned with a white flower, similar to a Tudor rose.
The brunette smiled keenly at Thom with plump rouge lips and black-coffee eyes. A natural beauty. Next to her, no one would mistake me for pretty.
‘It’s lovely to see you, Thom,’ she said, softening her voice and flicking her sleek dark hair over one shoulder. An exotic rich fragrance drifted from her as she moved.
Thom took a moment and then answered her. ‘Not as lovely as it is to see you.’
Perhaps it was a special effort on his part, because Dan’s face became a picture of shock, and her otherwise smooth complexion creased with sudden delight.
Save for her footwear she had annoyingly good dress sense, but a deal too much confidence. Perhaps she was in her late-twenties.
‘I’ve been keeping this aside for you, Thom,’ she added, stroking the flag, ‘since I read your magnificent article a few months back in –.’ (I didn’t quite catch the name of the magazine.)
Halton Cray (Shadows of the World Book 1) Page 7