The Devil's Reflection

by Colin Davy

  “What is it then?”

  “I’ll tell you exactly why one day.” Her voice thickened, becoming a little nasal and he realised she was close to tears.

  “When?”

  “When the time’s right.”

  He suddenly realised how little he knew of her past. And how little she knew of his. “I see,” he said, even though he didn’t. She must have seen the truth behind his lie. “Do you want me to move out?” she asked suddenly.

  “No,” he said firmly. “You mustn’t leave. Moving upstairs or back to Southport won’t change anything for the better.” He shook his head. “Why do you want to leave?”

  “I don’t want to,” she said. “If I’ve upset you by talking about money, I didn’t mean to.”

  He sighed. “It’s only your sudden emphasis on money.”

  “It’s not sudden,” she said. “I’ve always been careful with money, so was Debs. it’s not like her at all.”

  “Debbie? Careful?” he asked. “That wasn’t my impression, but you knew her best, I suppose.”

  She heard the doubt in his voice. “There’s something you should know about me, Gary,” she said softly.

  “Oh?”

  She took a long breath. “I’m not a virgin,” she said. When he waited for her to go on, she didn’t; she must think her announcement was bombshell enough. Walking round to the alcove, he sat on a stool beside her, hoping to regain their former intimacy. “That’s hardly unusual,” he said. “I don’t think your Pentecostal Church sees virginity as an entry requirement.”

  “It doesn’t,” she said.

  He shrugged. “So, it’s not a big deal,” he said. “Why mention it?”

  “Because you need to understand me,” she whispered.

  That would be a big ask, he thought, but he waited for her to carry on.

  “Only in the last five years have I fully embraced Christ,” she said softly. “Even then, I followed Deb’s lead.” Now, she had surprised him. “I had a fiancé,” she continued. “A man I thought I loved and who I thought loved me. I had everything I needed. My future was mapped out. My surviving parent was rich and generous. I had a golden future, even if I’d become shallow without knowing it. When my mother visited, she warned me against him, but I ignored her.” She stuttered to a halt for a second. “What do mothers know?” After swallowing noisily, she fell silent.

  He waited, she was steeling herself to tell him something important.

  “I was driving Deb’s car when it happened,” she said. “My mother sat in the passenger seat, not knowing I was high on drink and weed and pride. She’d come to visit and it was my turn to impress, and boy, did I. Driving too fast because I had it all, or thought I had.” She glanced away fixing her gaze on the darkening sky outside.

  “Maria,” he whispered. “What happened?”

  “it was in Vermont,” she said. “I remember it like yesterday. A sunny day, one of many I expected to see. I killed her, Gary, I skidded into a tree avoiding a rabbit that probably wasn’t even there.” A tear welled up and she swallowed. “Debs forgave me even if I could never forgive myself.”

  It was like a punch to his stomach, and when she slid from the stool to throw her arms around him, she began to cry. Once started, she couldn’t stop, and her body shook with the agony of remembrance. There was little he could do or say, he could only stand unhappily, hoping the warmth of his body was some comfort.

  When her tears finally stopped, she looked up and gave a bleak smile. He tried to smile back but found it impossible, so he hugged her tightly. The accident explained her slightly crooked nose, and she probably kept it that way to punish herself.

  “I’d have given all my money and more to relive and change that day, Gary. Debs and I have never driven since the accident, and I doubt I ever will again.” She paused. “As for Kurt, my so-called fiancé …” She swallowed noisily. “I took time to recover from the accident, perhaps I never will, and as my sex drive dried up, I saw his true nature. When the sex disappeared, so did Kurt, blaming me for my grief.” He felt her eyes bore into him. “You’re not like that,” she said.

  He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

  Her bleak smile returned. “Money means nothing, but it doesn’t betray you.” Stepping back, she took his hands in hers. “If you were as transparent as Kurt, I’d see it. You’re not what you think you are, Gary. You’re been chosen.”

  “By you?”

  “Not only by me. By Christ, he’s laid his hand on your shoulder and asked you have to follow the path mapped out.” When he said nothing, the silence lengthened. “What do you think?” she asked finally.”

  “As usual,” he said. “Why me?”

  “Because you can’t escape your destiny.”

  He sighed. “You think Debbie was killed deliberately?”

  “I sense it,” she said, and she searched his face. “You can’t escape it, Gary, as much as you might want to. You’re committed.”

  Now he knew what a fly felt when enmeshed in a spider’s web. How did he get here?

  “There’s a memorial service on Sunday for Deborah,” she said. “Obviously, they expect us to go.” It was a question, but her face was a mixture of hope and determination. She needn’t worry, to refuse such a small thing would be a real slap in the face, and he couldn’t do that. Emotional blackmail it might be, but what else could he do after that heart-wrenching story. “We’ll be there,” he said. “I promise you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The water was warm, embracing him in a cosy blanket that took his mind off his nudity. He could breathe easily despite being many metres below the sun-dappled surface, and he could see for miles in the clear blue water. When the limp figure in the distance came closer and turned to face him, he recognised Maria by the red hair that straggled behind, moving in rhythm with ocean currents that gently moved her.

  As he watched, her hips thrust forward to emphasis the red pubic hair and what lay beneath. This could only be a dream, he realised. Her small breasts looked swollen, as if they’d absorbed water, and the areoles flared a deep red: A Maria, but a changed one. Yes, a dream, and in dreams, such things happen. Nothing to worry about.

  But after seeing her face clearly for the first time, all rational thought disappeared. Her eyes were closed and her arms began to flail at something she couldn’t see. She must be drowning, and he had to save her. Reaching desperately for her body, he felt ice-cold skin, and his urgency increased. The surface looked so distant now, and they moved upwards far too slowly. When she suddenly tensed, her body came to life with her arms and legs wrapping around in a grip so tight, it took away his breath. Her eyes snapped open and the blue eyes stared at him without recognition. Cold lips brushed roughly against his before she opened her mouth and bit him painfully with jagged, yellow teeth. Blood gushed from his cheeks to form a red mist that surrounded them. He couldn’t move and all strength ebbed away as the light faded.

  Landing with a dull thud on the carpet, he tried to grab at Maria but she’d gone. Lying face-down on the carpet with the sheet entangled around him, his heart thundered. Only when he untangled himself to switch on the light, did he begin to relax. A dream, that’s all it had been, even if his racing heart remained unsure.

  A dream, but what sort of dream was that intense? Full-on technicolour and so realistic, he expected to see a puddle on the carpet. When he rubbed his finger across his cheek and found no mark, relief flooded through him. As his heart continued to thud, he listened for noises in the bedroom. Had he woken her with his shouts? Had he really yelled, or was that only part of his dream? The only sound he heard now was his own heavy breathing.

  Sunlight filtered through the light curtains and the clock showed just after six. He ought to leave Maria to sleep, but his heart continued to pound. Scrambling into his clothes, he decided to check the bedroom.

  Opening the door, he peered in. She slept soundly, only her face visible under the single sheet, but her eyes fli
ckered for a moment. Stirring briefly, she gave an audible breath before turning over and wrapping the sheet around herself. She looked fully relaxed, with no sign of the menace from the dream-Maria.

  Where had the dream come from? What subliminal message had been triggered by her story from yesterday? A loss of trust in men after her fiancé’s betrayal, and a subsequent need for deep reassurance as a consequence? Celibacy as a default ever since. But where did her harpy-like response in the dream come in? Was he over-analysing a passing dream caused by an uncomfortable sofa? Sigmund Freud, eat your heart out, hr decided, it’s all bunkum.

  “Gary?” Her eyes had opened while he stood daydreaming, and she stared intently at him. “What’s wrong?” she asked, sitting up and pulling the sheet to her neck.

  “I dreamt of you,” he said. “A few minutes ago.” He moved slowly into the bedroom.

  A smile tried to form on her lips, but it died almost immediately. “That’s nice,” she said. “But when was this?”

  “A few minutes ago, you were in danger and I tried to help you.”

  The smile came back and stayed. “What was I wearing?”

  “Uh?”

  “In the dream,” she said. “Did I wear a white nightie, a white bra, and white pants? Because that’s what I wear to bed now. I swore I wouldn’t make the silly mistake of wearing next to nothing again, no matter how hot it became.”

  “Oh … yes, I see.” He shook his head almost as an afterthought. “No, it was just a dream, but so real.”

  “Just a dream,” she said softly.

  “Yes.”

  “And you came to check I was alright?”

  “Yes.”

  She smiled. “And you’re satisfied now?”

  “Yes.”

  Her smile widened. “Tell me about it once I’ve dressed. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’d like to do that.”

  “Do what, sorry, I see …” He was talking nonsense, it was time to leave her in peace. “Sorry,” he said one last time before retreating to the kitchen. There, he put on the kettle and tried to make sense of what had happened. The dream must mean something significant. What? Sexual desire? That would be the logical thought, but easy to pinpoint, surely?

  One for a psychologist, but definitely not one for Sophie - she was too close. And the after-effects seemed slow to dissipate. Even now, he could feel the visceral and raw emotions aroused. Did water and drowning represent a loss of control. By him? It usually came back to sex, even if Maria’s cannibal instinct added another layer. And if it was purely sexual, he’d probably have dreamt of Debbie rather than her inhibited sister.

  Did the calm blue surface represent his former life? Was swimming desperately for the surface a wish to return there, with Maria’s sudden aggression an effort to stop him? The truth was he had no clue what the dream really represented. Snap out of it, he thought, you’re acting like a spoilt child, it’s not all about you.

  When Maria finally appeared, dressed in a green and modest dress he’d not seen before, she took the tea he offered. A smile danced on her lips and he thought she looked radiant. “I’m flattered to hear about this dream,” she said. “You must tell me about it. Perhaps it’s a portent? What did I wear?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  Her eyes narrowed but her smile remained. “You must do,” she said. “You said it was intense.”

  “Did I?”

  “Yes.” Her smile broadened. “Come on, Gary, I’d like to know.” Settling down on the armchair in the front room, she placed the cup carefully on the coffee table.

  He sat back in the chair, and though he began hesitantly, once started, he found words tumbling over each other before he finished. “It wasn’t sexual,” he said as a finale, but he knew it was. How could a dream of a naked woman not be sexual?

  “You’re lying about the sexual content, aren’t you?” she said.

  “Yes,” he admitted.

  She nodded and looked deep into his eyes. “You fear me,” she said. “You fear I’ll awaken to a full sexual life, your version of sexual life – the physically aggressive sort.”

  “Fear? Hardly,” he said. The fear would be she’d baulk at it.

  “Yes, you do,” she said. “Why Is that?”

  “I don’t think I do,” he said. “I felt uneasy because the dream seemed wrong,”

  “In what way?”

  “The sudden change in the dream version of you,” He said. “It was unexpected.”

  She considered it briefly. “Nothing to do with announcing my lack of virginity?” Although he shook his head, she gave a knowing look. “Perhaps your fear is a fear of commitment, Gary?”

  Now, that could be a go-er, but he was reluctant to explore it. He’d always been aware that commitment needed to be on his terms, and being shoe-horned into a relationship by force of circumstances had been irritating. How could he explain that coherently without making her angry?

  He was thirty-one and he’d begun to believe that ‘on his terms’ had been a reason for his not settling down. The perfect woman didn’t exist but perhaps it took time to appreciate hidden qualities.

  Had he met her in the normal course of events, he’d have looked at her faults and found her wanting. With his needing to be in control of events, her vetoing sex would count as a major fault for sure, no matter what the reason.

  Selfish? There was no denying it. But recent events had shaken him up. The dream had crystallised an emotional vulnerability he hadn’t realised he possessed. She could even be right in her interpretation.

  “You like to be in charge,” she said softly.

  She’d put her finger on it now. Beginning a relationship with a woman was like trying to control an unfamiliar car. You switch on the left indicator and the windscreen wipers come on. His quicksand simile might be truer than he thought because he found her more attractive as he began to know her better. Even her silly certainties seemed more appealing, even if she’d completely over-estimated his detective powers.

  “I had a dream about you last night too,” she said.

  “You did?”

  She paused for a second. “I dreamt you discovered the details behind Deb’s death,” she said.

  He tried not to smile. “Is that all?” he said. “Shall I go out and buy a superhero outfit?”

  “No need,” she said. “But you can look into this seriously, Gary. Go your own way if you like. Look into Deb’s neighbours if you prefer, I’ll leave it to you.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Exactly,” she said. “I won’t try to guide you anymore.”

  He sighed, her faith in him was misplaced, but could he convince her he was useless? He had a decision to make. Become a temporary Sherlock Holmes and let her see his incompetence, or refuse point-blank. “The police are investigating,” he reminded her.

  She gave a pretend laugh that ended in a snort of contempt. “Not seriously,” she said. “As soon as the PM results are in, they’ll stop going through the motions. All I’m asking is that you look into this for a few days.”

  “I do have a full-time job.”

  “I know, but you don’t realise your own abilities. Trust your instincts. You have a gift and you must use it.”

  OK, he decided, it’s time to humour her for a while. It might be short-lived and unsuccessful, but he’d have a go. At least then, he could say farewell with an easy conscience. “I’ll do my best,” he said. “In fact, I’ll start straight away.” When he rose to his feet, she looked surprised. “Where are you going?”

  “To mither Debbie’s neighbour.”

  “Now?”

  “Why not?”

  Her face brightened immediately. “Trust yourself,” she said. “You’ll see.”

  He wished he shared her optimism, and as he climbed the stairs, he wondered what he was hoping to achieve? Going through the motions like the police? No, he decided, he’d try his best even if it went nowhere.

  Could he trick the man into revealing the tru
th by deft questioning? As a result, he’d conclude with a Holmes-like deduction, telling Maria what she wanted to know before slipping into a cocaine-induced trance and playing on his non-existent violin. Accept the grateful thanks of Maria, who in her joy and thanks, would rip the clothes off him and virtually rape him.

  A nice idea, but more likely, William would humour him before tiring of his childish questions and politely asking him to leave. Ah well, whatever the result he could tell Maria he’d tried.

  After several knocks at the door, he was about to give up when the door finally opened. William’s face, wreathed in his eternal smile appeared, but rapidly clouded over. “It’s you,” he said. “What do you want?”

  Although he was clearly an unwelcome visitor, he pressed on. “Can you spare a minute or two?” he asked.

  The man suppressed a frown and begrudgingly opened the door. “If you feel you must.”

  He went quickly in, ignoring the strong smell of cannabis in the air. “Thanks for your offer to help yesterday,” he said. When he found a chair and dropped into it, William stiffly followed suit without an offer of tea or coffee. Clearly the previous Mr Nice Guy William had vanished along with his boyfriend. “We appreciated it,” Gary continued. “But as you can guess, it’s a difficult time for us.” That was as far as he was prepared to grovel. If it wasn’t enough – too bad.

  To his surprise, William thawed a little. “I understand,” he said. “I’m still recovering from my boyfriend’s betrayal, it was more a shock than I realised.” He gave a loud sigh. “What can I do for you?” A thin smile appeared that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Dressed today in dark-shirt and trousers, he looked like a refugee from a Goth knees-up, but he gave Gary his full attention.

  “I’m curious about your party on Sunday evening,” Gary began. “Did Debbie pop in? I know you didn’t see her but someone else might have.”