The sky had just begun to lighten when they arrived, though sunrise itself was still half an hour away. The visitor centre wasn’t open yet, but there was a light on inside. David went around to the back and returned minutes later with two passes and a parking sticker. ‘I worked here a few days before Prambanan,’ he explained as he tethered the car securely. Like all cars on Java, it was an older model, one of the first pneumatics that had come along, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be stolen. He held his hand out to Zee. ‘Let’s go.’
She still couldn’t see anything but dark jungle falling away on all sides. ‘Where are we?’
‘This is Borobudur,’ he explained, ‘the largest Buddhist temple on Java. It was built about the same time Prambanan was, over a millennium ago. Both temples were partially destroyed by an earthquake and this whole area was abandoned. When explorers stumbled on them in the seventeenth century, no one knew they’d ever existed.’
Zee thought of the portrait sculptures on the walls of Prambanan, dancing in silence as the jungle grew towards them, their faces and the names of those who’d imagined them forgotten. Was that what life was? You lived, you danced, you were forgotten? No, she thought with sudden insight. Others found you. Explorers came along and found you. People like David retrieved your story. Nothing you ever did was truly lost.
‘Can you see it?’ David was asking.
Zee squinted at what seemed a gathering of shadows in the distance. As they walked closer, she saw that it was a large building, built in tiers of dark stone. The tiers were cracked and uneven. Whole sections seemed to tilt. Compared to Pramabanan with its grassy paths and tiny temples, Borobudur seemed unfriendly, almost menacing.
‘What’s inside?’ she asked.
‘Nothing. This is solid stone.’
The grounds weren’t open yet and so they were the only people on the path that led to the vast, eerie structure. The only sound was the occasional screech of a monkey. She wondered why he’d brought her here but said nothing.
As if reading her thoughts, David paused when they came near the foot of the monument. ‘Do you see them now?’
At first she didn’t, but then suddenly, despite the dim murkiness, she did. Looking out at them from every tier, from corners and alcoves and parapets, were Buddhas, hundreds of them. Their serenity transformed everything around them.
‘Ready to climb, then?’ he asked. ‘You mean we can go up to them?’
‘Sure, all the way to the top. Follow me.’
On her own, Zee could have spent hours on each tier, examining the statues and taking in the patterns carved into the stones. She noticed that while all of the Buddhas were seated in a lotus position, their hands were in many different poses. Some held their hands palm to palm in prayer, some touched the earth, some held objects, some rested one hand on a knee and raised the other to visitors in peace. She wanted to slow down and examine the variations, but David was a man with a mission, and kept urging her upward.
‘Perfect,’ he said when they reached the large, square top.
The first thing Zee saw were structures shaped like old-fashioned hand-bells, the kind town criers rang, only they were made of stone and brick and much taller than a human. Through their many small, diamond-shaped openings, Zee saw that each contained a Buddha, and more Buddhas sat in low stone circles looking out towards the horizon.
‘We’re just in time,’ David said. He led her quickly to the east-facing wall and Zee gasped at the view. Far below them lay the dense jungle, deep green with a canopy of fog drifting just above it. The green reflected up through the fog to give everything a soft green glow, even the pale stone Buddha who kept watch with them. If Zee didn’t know better she would have sworn the statue was carved of the palest milky jade. As she watched, the sun broke above the horizon. In an instant, its rays transformed the Buddha to shimmering gold. The effect lasted no more than a minute, but Zee would never forget its magic.
‘Oh,’ she said, reaching for David’s hand. ‘This is my favourite Buddha of all.’
‘Mine too, and there’s no one I’d want to share him with but you.’ He drew her close to his side and they stood as the golden light fell over them. ‘Here.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a square of folded tissue paper. ‘I’m sorry there’s no box. They’re not big on gift wrap here.’
Zee unfolded the square of tissue to discover a thin gold bracelet with two Buddhas on it, one pale jade and the second, smaller figure pure, heavy gold. ‘Oh,’ she breathed, ‘they’re wonderful. I’m never going to take it off.’
She handed him the chain and extended her wrist. When his fingertips brushed against the soft skin of her inner wrist she shivered, never wanting the moment to end. She felt him tremble against her and knew he felt the same.
But the moment was ending, she saw. The Buddha – their Buddha – was mellowing to the tawny glow of morning. Soon it would be time to leave for the airport.
‘What does it mean when their hands are in different positions?’ she asked. ‘Why is ours touching the ground with one hand?’
‘The hands express different aspects of the Buddha’s teachings. Our touch-the-earth Buddha signifies calling the earth to witness.’
‘Then,’ Zee said, ‘I call the earth to witness that this has been the best week of my entire life.’
‘Mine too,’ David said, looking directly into her eyes. ‘I wish we could do it all again.’
‘But we can,’ Zee said. ‘Come back to London. Something might change. You never know. And if it doesn’t, at least we can be together a little while longer.’
David’s mouth turned suddenly hard. ‘Yes, something might happen. We might get caught.’
‘But we’ve been lucky so far. Why wouldn’t we be again?’
He folded her in his arms. ‘I’d do anything to be with you, Zee. But you don’t know what it’s like if they catch you.’
‘Yes I do,’ she said stubbornly, an edge in her voice. ‘You told me all about it.’
‘But it’s not real to you. I’ve seen them rip couples apart, one to prison, one to oblivion. I can’t let that happen to you.’
‘Promise me you’ll think about coming back to London. Promise me just that much.’
He said nothing and they stood there silently holding each other for a long time, until the first of the day’s tourists reached the top of the monument, and they surrendered the spot on Earth where they’d been the happiest.
CHAPTER 15
SHUTTLECOCK
Four nights in a row, Zee dreamed about the shuttlecock. The dreams began just after she returned to London and at first she thought nothing of them. She was jet-lagged and emotionally exhausted. Watching the neighbourhood games, then trying to play it with David the next day, had been one of the high points of her trip, so it wasn’t surprising that her subconscious would keep replaying it. And it wasn’t surprising that the shuttlecock was the shorthand her dreaming mind chose. The shuttlecock she and David had lost and she’d found later, was sitting on her table. More than once she found herself sketching it, halfway through before she even realised it.
Zee mentioned this to Major Dawson when she gave him the present she’d bought in the art market. She was eager to pick up where she’d left off, but wondered if the dreams would interfere.
‘Sometimes travelling, particularly to a place so out of one’s usual orbit, so to speak, stirs things up. Have you ever had clairvoyant dreams before?’
‘No. But I’ve had a lot of catastrophe dreams – sandstorms and cyclones, war, people I know being stabbed. But none of them ever happened.’
‘Well then, this probably means nothing at all. But I’m wondering, if you’d do me a personal favour. Would you mind taking a few more tests for me? It’s for a theory I’m exploring, on whether certain experiences and destinations can affect highly intuitive people. Especially someone young like yourself, who’s in the midst of —’ He broke off suddenly.
‘In the midst of what?’
‘Sorry,’ said the Major. ‘None of my business.’
‘Please tell me what you were going to say.’
‘Just that you seem to be in the midst of a transition.’
‘Transition? To what?’
‘Ah, that I wouldn’t know. But you seem different since you went away. Now . . .’ He picked up the gift she’d wrapped in brown tissue and tied with an orange ribbon. ‘What do we have here?’
It wasn’t an expensive gift, just a small hand-woven basket with a lid, but the Major was delighted. ‘It’s going right on my desk,’ he said.
Bringing home gifts was definitely one of the best parts of travelling, Zee thought. Rani had loved her sandals with the peacock-blue crystals, and the silk shawl she took to Mrs Hart had softened the awareness that her friend was now confined to bed, and close to the end of her long life.
The second set of tests the Major gave her was more complex than the first, laying out specific scenarios that involved more people than objects or locations. Though the tests were much more detailed and the Major pressed her to hone in on her answers and make them more specific, Zee didn’t necessarily find them harder. At the end, he once again brought out his miniature theatre, the one that had fascinated and defeated Zee the first time around. Now, however, she had a far easier time assessing the people inside the box.
After correctly identifying the culprit in two crime cases and the victim in an attempted kidnapping, the Major asked her to wear a headband with sensors connected to the theatre’s motherboard. Zee realised this was exactly the situation she’d feared when the creepily enthusiastic Dr Branning had suggested it. But Major Dawson wasn’t Dr Branning and Zee was no longer afraid. She was curious, and eager to see where her improved accuracy would lead.
Headband in place, Zee watched the miniature figures inside the transparent box. This time, the minute she identified the culprit, he vanished.
‘Keep watching,’ the Major said.
Zee did, and over the next several minutes was able to identify two accomplices she’d initially missed.
‘Wow.’
‘Wow indeed. You’re deepening, Zee. You have great potential to be a top diviner. You’ve already had some experience with the anarchists at Blackfriars Bridge. I’d like to put you specifically to work with the Anarchist Threat team I’m in charge of. Interested?’
‘Yes.’ Nothing would be more satisfying, she thought, than stopping the fear and suffering caused by shock bombs.
‘I have to warn you that, as a novice, your input won’t have as much weight as more experienced people on the team. But here’s a card with my private number, always with me and always on. If you ever have an overwhelming feeling about something, call me. Especially over the next few months.’
‘Is there a particular threat, then?’
The Major chuckled and indicated a screen scrolling continuous data. ‘Twenty thousand of them. Almost twice the usual daily load.’
On the way home, Zee realised that her assertion about her disaster dreams never happening wasn’t completely true. Sandstorms and cyclones, war, people I know being stabbed . . . Hadn’t David been stabbed? And she herself? But the dream she’d had was long ago, before she’d even come to London. In the dream, her sister Bex was grown up and married to a man who travelled a lot for his work, and he was stabbed on a flight coming home. Zee recalled having read that when dreams held troubling thoughts, the dreamer often chose a stand-in for themselves. But even if Bex had been a stand-in, it wouldn’t explain the rest of the dream. She hadn’t known David then, so she couldn’t very well have dreamed about him. Like most dreams, it was most likely a random collection of worries, incidents and images from her day. And since there were only so many images and incidents that could occur, it wasn’t surprising that the two should mirror each other from time to time.
When the dreams started up again the following week, she thought it might be more than just jet lag. In the first set of dreams, there was nothing unusual about the shuttlecock. Small and white, it flew back and forth as she watched a game in which she was a player. The second set of dreams was different. The shuttlecock was larger and instead of stiff little white feathers, it trailed long, brilliantly coloured plumes. In this version of the dream, Zee was only a spectator. It was Rani who held the racquet, though Zee couldn’t see who she was playing. Midway through each dream, the shuttlecock would turn and fly away, and Rani would float after it, laughing and sometimes glancing back over her shoulder at Zee.
This time, Zee knew Rani was a substitute for herself, and the shuttlecock was meant to be David – bright, alluring, the thing she would follow after. The thing that would not go the way she expected but would always fly away from her.
Because that was exactly what was happening. Her first week back in London had been easy. She knew David was finishing his research in Prambanan. But when the second week began, she knew David would be leaving there. She started expecting to see him at every corner she turned and with every breath she took. It was inconceivable that he wouldn’t come back to London, unimaginable that he would return to Omura without seeing her again. But she knew too that it wasn’t her decision to make. It was David’s and whatever he did would become part of her life. Seen that way, the dreams made all the sense in the world. Even so, she’d learned her lesson from the tsunami. She wrote a detailed report on the shuttlecock dreams for Major Dawson, emphasising their growing intensity and the way various parts grew more brilliant and elaborate with each new dream. One night, the feathered tips turned fiery orange and burst into flame.
The call she’d been dreading came on a Tuesday afternoon, just as she’d finished writing her notes on a young man who’d come back from the Mars colony with a bad case of space pleurisy. When Zee heard the voice of Mrs Hart’s daughter she stiffened, afraid she’d already missed a chance to say goodbye. But that was why she was calling. Mrs Hart wanted to know if Zee could ‘pop round’ as soon as possible. Zee knew exactly what that meant but smiled despite herself. It was just like Ellie Hart to use a jaunty phrase like that.
Zee found her friend propped up in bed, wearing the silk shawl Zee had given her. She looked, Zee thought, carefree in the true sense of the word – free of care.
‘Bring a chair over by the bed, will you, Zee? I don’t have the strength to project my voice across the room. I must say, this shawl is a fine thing to make an exit in. Much better dressed than when I arrived.’ She caught the uncertain look in Zee’s eyes. ‘Oh please, let there be laughter, Zee, even if my joke wasn’t a very good one. You can’t take death too seriously, not at my age. You know, when I was your age, death was much more common. Few people lived beyond eighty or ninety. It was part of everyone’s experience and people were much less fearful of it. I’m not sure extending life so long has done humanity any favours. It’s made people forget what life is for.’
‘What is life for, then?’ asked Zee.
‘Well, it’s a matter of opinion, of course, but I think it’s for learning. Learning to love each other, leaving things better than we found them.’
Zee thought of the five hundred statues of Buddha at Borobudur, how they were all different yet all serene in their expressions of wisdom and compassion. Maybe that was what her life was meant to be. It had been three weeks and there had been no word at all from David. Maybe her life was to be one of helping others and never having a relationship of her own. Maybe she’d met the one person she would ever love and it hadn’t worked out. But it was hard, when you were seventeen and wanted so much to be loved and to have a future like everyone else’s.
She must have uttered these thoughts aloud, for Mrs Hart said, ‘Ah. No word from the young man, then?’
‘No.’
‘Well, it’s not over until it’s over.’
Mrs Hart closed her eyes and seemed to drift off. Zee was content to sit quietly beside her. There was a profound, almost luminous, sense of peace in the room. Maybe Mrs Hart was right – it w
asn’t over until it was over.
Zee didn’t know how long they sat like that. Time seemed to be moving rapidly, but the sun was still bright when Mrs Hart opened her eyes again.
‘Sorry I dozed off, dear. Where was I? Oh yes, life. Big topic, isn’t it?’ She closed her eyes again and was quiet for so long Zee thought she’d dozed off again. Then suddenly, her hand tightened over Zee’s. ‘And you’ve been one of the nice surprises of my life, Zee. When you live this long, you think you’ve had everything you’re going to get. But knowing you has been a delight. You’re very special, and all the dearer because you don’t know how special you are.’
Zee had promised herself she wouldn’t cry in front of Mrs Hart, but suddenly she felt the sting of tears behind her eyes.
‘I’m going to miss you so much!’ she said.
‘Oh, you’ll hear from me from time to time. I’ll be around. Just a small change of address. And Zee? No matter what happens, be bold with your life. Don’t settle for small. When your heart tells you something’s right, go big. Risk it all. That’s what life is really for.’
CHAPTER 16
THE FIRES OF MONTGOLFIER
It had been a week since Mrs Hart’s funeral, meaning it would soon be a month since Zee had left Indonesia. There’d been no word from David in that time, and even her attempts to find Mia proved futile. The expectation of seeing David walking down the street towards her gradually waned, leaving a dull, ever-present ache in her chest. Sometimes the thought of living the rest of her life without ever seeing him again rose in her mind and she would push it swiftly away. As Mrs Hart had said, it wasn’t over until it was over. And for Zee it wasn’t over. Maybe it never would be. Maybe she would go her whole life loving only him.
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