by Billy London
They reached the Embankment as Michael's mood perked up and he struck ridiculous poses to the interests of many a tourist as Eva drew and drew portrait after portrait. He had such a curious face, she noted repeatedly. She wondered if he’d had any work done by a plastic surgeon. It looked seamless, but as if it didn't quite belong on his face. On the other hand, he could just have odd features.
A mildly boozy late lunch carried on into dinner, as the Embankment started to busy with people finishing work and readying for a night out. Michael nodded to her phone as their plates were cleared away. She glanced at the screen. “Hello, Jojo.”
“Quick question. What's the matter with you?”
“Why, what have I done?”
“Mama just called me asking if you're all right, you sounded so panicked.”
Michael read the label of the bottle of wine, trying to look as if he wasn't listening. “Just a bird flew into my window. I was upset, that's all.”
“You cannot do that to her, Eva. Not when she's so far away and she can't do anything to help you.”
That stung, she thought. “I know. It was just a knee-jerk reaction—shit happens, call your mother.”
“Why didn't you call me?”
“I don't know, I mean how much money would you have lost to talk to me about a dead crow on my windowsill...”
Michael abruptly got to his feet. “I'll pay for dinner...”
“No, it's fine, just wait...”
Jo barked in her ear. “Who's that?”
“Never mind,” Eva said distractedly as Michael counted out the notes for their meal. “Wait a minute.”
“I've got to go. I'll speak to you soon.” He flashed her a quick smile and left the restaurant.
“Are you listening to me?” Jo snapped.
“Er... Yeah,” she replied. “I was asking how much money you'd lose by taking a few minutes out to talk to me.”
“I don't know, a million? I'll make it back this afternoon, but call me. At least I can come to you. Okay?”
“All right. Just chill out.”
“Fine. Bye now.”
It was getting close to ten p.m. by the time she walked back to the flat. Before she entered she called Jo. “Are you okay to talk?”
“One hour,” her sister replied sharply, before disconnecting. She thought of all the friends she could call, but she was already listed in their phone books under “Loopy.” She didn't want to fuel that raging fire. She called Gabriel and heard a blast of music before Gabriel said, “Hold it, hold it. It's my girl. Wait a moment. Angel?”
“Hi!” she breathed softly on hearing his voice. My girl! he'd called her.
“Are you okay?”
Crap, weak woman admittance. Well fuck it, she was freaked out. “No, not really. I don't want to go inside my flat.”
“Can you put the call on video? Let me look.”
She did as he asked and she opened the reception door. “My eyes are closed,” Eva admitted.
He laughed. “It's okay. You're good. Open them. Lift?”
“Of course! I don't do stairs.”
“Fair enough.”
“I'm not normally this crazy.”
“I know you're not. And I got the pleasure of watching you sleep.”
She smiled. “How are people not using you to polish? You're just so smooth.”
“I know. Okay, off you go.”
She opened the flat door. Nothing flew out at her, broke her windows or threatened to send her to hell. “I think...it might be okay.” she whispered cheekily.
“Cupboards? Fridge? Angel, always check the fridge.”
“Who was born in the eighties?” She grinned.
“Is that okay? Do you feel all right?”
A mental feel around told her she was more than all right. “It's fine. It's better now that I've spoken to you.”
“Don't make me miss you. I've got a lot to do.”
Eva gave a crow of delight. “You miss me!”
He didn't rise to the bait. “I'm going to finish this track. Call me if you need me.”
“I do need you. So I'll be calling. Thank you.”
“Okay, Angel. Speak to you later.”
“Bye.”
They disconnected and she looked around again. It was her home. It wouldn't bite. She would be absolutely fine. She sat down on the sofa and put the portraits of Michael on her coffee table. What an odd reaction. But then she seemed to be channeling the child from The Omen, so no surprise really. She bit into her bottom lip. Something was pushing her to flick through her old school photo album, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. The briefest of chats with Gabriel had made her feel normal again. There wasn't anything wrong with wanting to stay that way. Looking at the photo album would just pull her back fifteen years. She just needed to sleep now. That would make everything better. Making her way into the bedroom, she saw that the maintenance guy had come in and fixed the window. Just like it never happened. Well he could have used a vacuum cleaner, she thought, wrinkling her nose at the dust under the window. She peeled off her clothes and climbed naked into the cool sheets. Who could be bothered with pajamas when there was sleep to be had? She'd find her modesty once she'd slept a little bit.
Chapter Six
Something nudged her awake. Her head drew up, her arms curled around the pillow braced against her chest. What was that? It sounded like whispers. She turned on the side light, farther out of reach because the super had moved the floor lamp to fix the window. With a stretch she flicked on the light, and could have sworn something crawled away.
She scrambled into sitting up. A look at the clock told her that she'd barely been asleep four and a half hours. An odd scent stung her nostrils. Like burned meat. What's going on? She hadn't been home all day. She stayed perfectly still for a moment, and heard a creak of weight on the wooden floorboards outside her bedroom. Carefully lowering her head to the floor, she tried to see under the door, clutching the sheets to her naked chest. The floorboard jumped as if someone stomped on it hard. She gave a short, sharp yelp and slapped a hand over her mouth. Get out, get out, get out!
She slipped from the bed and threw on the jogging suit again, grabbing her bag. Her door rattled as if something had slammed against it. What the fuck? She had a Bible somewhere—her grandparents had given it to her when she was confirmed. Where are you, where are you? It was sitting on the lowest shelf of her books cabinet. Snatching it up, she tucked it into her bag and started reciting Psalm 23 out loud, trying to make herself calm down. There's nothing outside, There's nothing outside. As she reached her closed bedroom door, she said the line, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”
She heard an animal-like snort, then forced herself to say it again, louder, with conviction.
Nothing else moved. She tentatively opened the door. It was all smoky, still darkness. The light was on the left side wall to her bedroom. With an arm stretched, she scrambled for the light and snapped it on. The flat was clear, quiet and still except for the hum of the refrigerator.
God, where can I go?
Michael was one short floor up. She ran for the door, fumbling with the lock. She felt the chill of cold breath on the back of her neck and threw the door open, running up the stairs. Reaching Michael's flat, she knocked frantically on the door.
It took a few minutes but eventually, he opened it. “Eva!” he said in shock.
“Look, I'm really sorry to disturb you, but I am freaking out. I am freaking, the fuck, out. Can I come in? I won't be any trouble. I promise. I promise. I promise.”
Michael looked at a point over her shoulder. Even that couldn't give her enough courage to turn around. “Eva, my flat's not like yours...” He caught her arm and pulled her inside. She was shaking so badly.
The flat was one long open space. It looked like an industrial warehouse. “Wait, where do you sleep?” she asked, barely distracted.
“Up there.”
T
he upstairs was half of the flat raised another floor under a skylight, protected by a thin iron railing. “I use it for photo shoots, so I don't really have anywhere for you to stay. I'd say stay in my bed, but Gabriel wouldn't like that.”
Eva started to cry. “I think I'm losing my mind.”
“Hey, hey, it's fine. You can stay. We won't tell him.” Michael closed the door and edged her toward the kitchen. “Let's get you a cup of tea.”
“Make it an Irish coffee. Less of the coffee more of the Irish,” she said, her teeth chattering.
He turned on the kettle and retrieved some whisky. “What's going on?”
From behind her hands, she begged, “You can't think I'm crazy.”
Michael crouched by the chair. “Just tell me.”
Her eyelashes fluttered frantically. “I keep hearing things and waking up at odd hours. Please, I just don't want to be on my own.”
He looked wary. “What about Gabriel?”
“I am freaking out here, and as far as I know, he wouldn't want me walking into the nearest mental institute.”
He sighed. “All right. What is it that keeps happening?”
“At first it was just simple things. Like my TV being on when I thought I'd turned it off. Or hearing whispering. Then it was my machines. The night before the exhibition, my washing machine started spinning by itself at three in the morning and I hadn't touched it in days. I have really odd dreams. About you. I don't know, I mean why, I don't feel that way about you. Last night I was talking to Gabriel on the webcam and he disappeared and everything turned on. My TV, my kettle, my toaster, everything. My phones rang at the same time, then nothing. Then this morning that crow flew into my window. It died. And just now. It was like something was inside my flat. I could hear it. It sounded like you know when a horse is pissed off and it does that snorting growl? It was like that. Right outside my bedroom door, and then I could feel it breathing on me. It is the last freaking straw. I do not like what's going on.”
Michael watched her carefully. “Has this happened before?”
“No.” She shook her head as she mentally backtracked. “Well, Mum said a bird flew into a window when... When I left school. But birds do stupid stuff. This was crazy. I swear it didn't want to fly into the window.”
His face changed, a little skepticism filtering into his eyes. “Eva, I think you're stretching.”
“No, honestly. I'm thinking about it now, and it was flapping all over the place a second before it hit the glass.”
He got to his feet as the kettle boiled. She tugged at her hair in frustration as he filled two cups. “Here's your coffee.”
“Thank you.” She took a sip and her throat nearly burned with the amount of alcohol in the drink. “Oh my, that's perfect.”
He sat down next to her, cradling his cup. “So what happened at school?”
“Something pretty bad,” she whispered. “Couldn't go back there. Funny enough, it was easier to come to London and blend in. No one gave one and a half. I can't talk about that. Not now. I'm just...”
“It's fine,” Michael insisted, placing his hand over hers. “I promise. You're safe.”
She decided to change the subject, extremely glad that one of his “friends” wasn't here. “Why don't you have a normal flat? This is like some...”
“Gallery? Well, it covers everything. I can do all my work here and photo shoots.” He noticed that her cup trembled when she picked it up.
“Sorry, my whole body's going mental.”
He put the cup down for her and held out his hand. “I'll show you around. Nothing to worry about.” This time she had no reservation in taking it. He pulled her to her feet. “So this is kitchen and dining room. Underneath what's my bed and bathroom is my studio.”
“Lights camera action. Very nice.”
A wrought-iron staircase took them upstairs where the bathroom was brick blocked off. A simple white-sheeted king-sized bed sat beneath the skylight.
“If you lie down sometimes you can see stars. Okay, BA flights, but same difference in London.”
She turned to him with a half smile. “It's really lovely. Crazy, but really nice.”
“Sit down for a minute.”
“I like sleeping. I really do,” she said sadly.
“It is necessary.”
She felt tears bubbling in her eyes. “I just...”
“It'll be fine.” He wrapped his arms around her.
It was just the human warmth she so desperately needed. She snuggled into his hug. Shame he didn't smell anything like Gabriel. She rested her head on his shoulder, looking aimlessly into the distance. That mirror looked familiar. In fact, the bedroom gave her a very weird sense of déjà vu. It was a recurring theme with Michael. He pulled back a little and rubbed her arms. “Better?”
She nodded. He leaned forward, his eyes closing as he started to close the gap between them. She leapt to her feet. “What are you doing?”
“Sorry, I'm sorry.”
She placed her hands over her eyes. “Why?”
“I'm sorry, I just... I read things wrong.” Michael went to catch her hand but she edged away. Why had he done that? Option B was going to a hotel, but that meant going into the corridor and using the lift. “Eva. I'm sorry.”
“I'm... I've got to go.”
“What about your flat?”
She made her way back down the stairs and picked up her bag. “I'll just go somewhere else. I'll stay at the Park Plaza.”
“You can stay...”
She shook her head again. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here.”
“At least let me walk with you to the hotel.”
Even she couldn't resist that. With a sigh she shrugged indifference. “Okay. If you want.”
He gathered up his keys and a packet of tablets from a side drawer, and led them into the corridor, to call for the lift.
Eva was pretty confused right now. If it wasn't things breathing on her, it was her neighbor trying it on. “God,” she whispered.
“I'm sorry,” Michael said again. The lift pinged its arrival, which set her teeth on edge. “It's all right,” he assured her. “Nothing's there.”
Not feeling quite up to believing him, she entered the lift first. When she was able to stumble outside into the cool, fresh early morning air, the tension started to leave her body. Even outside on the bridge at half three in the morning, the traffic was dispersed. Michael didn't say a word as they walked to the hotel. What could she say? Yeah, what you did was fine! Always make a move on a girl when she is shit scared out of her freaking mind.
“Let me pay,” he offered as they reached reception.
Her eyes met his warily. “You don't have to...”
“Please. I want to.” He talked to the concierge and she was given a room card.
Standing opposite her, Michael chewed on his bottom lip. “I didn't mean to do that. I just...”
She gave him a look. “It wasn't the best time for you to try that.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “When would have been a good time?”
“Probably before I met Gabriel,” she replied honestly. “You didn't have to do that. Pay, I mean.”
He rubbed her shoulder affectionately. “Don't worry about it. Let me know if there's any problem with my card. I left my details with the concierge.”
She nodded. He took her hand and tucked the packet of tablets into her palm. “Take two. They'll help.”
He turned and left as she was shown to her room, an expensive suite that looked nothing like her own room. She turned on all the lights and tucked herself under the covers. This is a mistake, she thought. She'd taken herself from a place she knew into somewhere completely unfamiliar. A glass of water and two of the pills didn't reassure her any further. Figuring she had at least half an hour before the tablets kicked in, she dialed Gabriel's number. It went to voice mail.
“Hi,” she mumbled. “I really need to speak to you. No, actually I just wanted to hear your
voice.”
Five minutes later the hotel room phone rang. “A Mr. Gabriel Walker to speak to you.”
“Okay.”
“Angel, why are you at a hotel?”
“Umm...”
“This is ridiculous. I'm coming home.”
“What? No, you can't do that! Come home and do what? You can't do anything!”
“But you can't carry on like this.”
He was right, but she wasn't going to derail his career to let him prove a point. “I haven't lived on my own for a while. I was with my parents for six months, I didn't have a minute to myself and maybe it's my mind reacting to it.”
“You're making weird excuses. What happened?”
She told him, completely excluding the bit where she ran to Michael's flat and he tried to kiss her.
Gabriel sighed. “Stay with Jo until I come back.”
“She won't....”
“I don't care, Angel. I'll call her myself and tell her she needs to make space for you.”
Oy, taking on her sister? He had to more than like her, no one would risk that for just “like.” “She won't appreciate that.”
“I will refer you again to the 'I don't care.' I can't stand you being afraid.”
She was quiet for a moment, her eyes closing. God those tablets worked fast. “I took sleeping tablets.”
“Well at least you'll get some sleep. Can you call me when you wake up?”
“Even if it's the middle of the night?”
“What did I tell you about the 'I don't care’? Sleep well.”
“Thank you. Miss you.” She put the phone down, turned over and pulled the sheets over her head.
***
She didn't have a single dream, for which she was effervescently grateful. She called Gabriel after she ordered herself a hefty breakfast. “I'm okay. Slept like a baby.”
“I've got a few more days here, and I'll be home. I promise.”
He sounded half awake, and she had never loved him more. “Thank god. Go back to sleep. I'm fine. I promise.”
She had a message from Jo. “Your boyfriend called me at four in the morning to tell me you needed to sleep over. Call me at 11:22 exactly. I have a coffee break then.”