The Aura

by Carrie Bedford

  I shivered, remembering, recapturing every detail. The view, which usually delighted me, had made me feel wistful and melancholy. Anxious too, although I couldn’t think why. My unease had grown, together with a vague feeling that I was being watched. The leaves of the tree behind me had sighed softly in a sudden breeze, and I’d glanced back over my shoulder. There was no one there. Only waves of heat that rose from the gravel road, making the air above it shimmer.

  Leo waved his hand in front of my face. “Come on, Kate. Don’t leave me hanging. What happened?”

  “Okay, sorry. I went to the edge of the road, curious to see who would be driving up there. I know sometimes teenagers go to the old farmhouse but not usually in the middle of the afternoon. The engine was straining and then a silver car crested the hill. I couldn’t see the driver because the windows were heavily tinted. Like a mafia car or something. Then the car stopped a few yards away from me and the back door opened. Dad came up behind me and put his hand on my arm. I think we were both nervous.

  “A woman got out. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and she was wearing a blue and white flowered dress. Leo, it was Mum.”

  Leo didn’t move. He was completely still, looking at me intently. I imagined him scrutinizing his students that way, looking for signs of understanding or for a burst of brilliant insight.

  “I ran forward and Mum held out her arms to hold me.”

  I remembered the scent of face powder and perfume. The feel of her soft hair against my cheek.

  “She told me that they had let her come back to say goodbye, and that she knew how devastating her death had been for us all. She was sorry she’d left with no warning.”

  My heart pounded against my ribs. I was finding it hard to breathe.

  “Kate?’

  “Mum told me she loved me, and you and Dad too. And that Toby needed her. She said that he wanted me to be happy. Then she let go of me and got back into the car. I begged her to stop, to stay with us, but she blew me a kiss and pulled the door closed. The engine restarted and the car began to pull away.

  “I was desperate, Leo. I grabbed hold of the door handle and tried to open the back door but it was locked. I began to jog alongside the car, banging on the window with my other hand. The wheels were spitting up jagged stones that stung my legs. Even when the car picked up speed, I ran alongside, my feet sliding along the gravel. I heard Dad shouting my name and then I fell, landing hard on my knees. My head hit the ground and I lost consciousness. When I woke up, I was in bed, with Dad and Paolo sitting there, watching me.”

  The silence that followed was heavy and black, reeking of disbelief and shock, like an old musty blanket; there was nothing warm and comforting about it. The metal lamp on the desk creaked as the light bulb heated it. I heard Leo breathing, heard the monotonous drip of rain on the roof outside the window.

  He shifted, uncrossed his legs and came to sit next to me on the couch. “You know that didn’t happen, right?”

  “But it did, Leo. I know Dad says it didn’t. He says a car hit me and kept going but that’s not what happened. I saw Mum, I spoke to her. I swear it. When I told Dad, he was upset and angry. We hardly spoke for two days.”

  When Leo put his arm around my shoulders, I leaned into him. It was easier not to look at his face, which was taut with anguish.

  “Kate, think about it.”

  “There’s something else.”

  I felt his arm muscles tense where my cheek rested against them.

  “Since the accident, I’ve seen something, like air moving around people’s heads and shoulders. It’s clear air and it ripples.”

  “Like air rising from hot gravel?”

  “Exactly.”

  He pushed me away gently so that he could look at me.

  “It’s a mirage, Katie. You saw the air rising over the road that day, and now you imagine you can see it in other places. Probably something to do with banging your head.”

  I didn’t blame him for trying to rationalize things. What I was telling him was too implausible, too unbelievable. Yet I plunged on, telling him how I’d seen the moving air over the little girl at the park. And that I’d seen the air over Francesca too.

  “And now Francesca is dead. I feel so guilty about that, Leo. I was angry with her and now …”

  “Stop right there, Kate,” Leo said. He got up and walked to his desk, where he made some space by shoving a pile of papers off to one side. He perched on the edge, the way he sat when he was in class. I’d been to one of his lectures, advanced calculus that was way over my head, but I’d enjoyed watching him teach. Now I braced for a lecture on a different subject.

  “You know, Kate, your life has been governed by guilt and regret. First about Toby’s death and then about Mum’s. Guilt is like…” He paused as though searching for the right phrase. “It’s like a pernicious weed. It grows and grows until there’s no room for positive thought or feeling. You have to cut it out before it destroys you.”

  Wrapping my arms around myself, I shrank back into the corner of the couch. I didn’t want to hear what he was saying.

  “And now you’re saying you feel guilty over what happened to Francesca. Well, that’s crazy. Being angry with someone doesn’t kill them.”

  He shifted, leaned forward towards me.

  “Kate, I grieve for Toby too. And you have no idea how much I miss Mum. You can feel sorry for what happened, but not guilty. Neither of those deaths was your fault. Grief serves a purpose, but guilt doesn’t. You have to let it go. You have so much potential and you’re burying it under a granite mountain of self-condemnation and regret.”

  “A bit strong on the metaphors, Leo,” I said, hoping to ease the tension.

  He smiled, stood and retrieved our glasses from the floor where he’d left them. He sat down next to me. “I’m sure I’m right, Katie. That blow to the head has caused this. Have you seen a doctor?”

  “I have a CT scan scheduled for Monday.”

  “Good. Then we’ll know more.” He squeezed my hand. “It’ll be all right.”

  We sipped our wine. This time the silence was consoling. I knew he wouldn’t say any more tonight; he didn’t believe in superfluous conversation. I wished, of course, that he had believed me, but that was just wishful thinking. There was no way my brother could accept what I’d told him. He was a scientist and a purist. From my earliest memories of him, he’d analyzed everything. How high a swing could go depending on the length of the chains. Why custard went lumpy if the heat was too high. If he couldn’t measure it or weigh it or explain it with a formula, then it didn’t exist.

  I finished my wine and wished there was more. I knew Leo was right about one thing. For as long as I could remember, I’d been weighed down by guilt; as though it was an anchor, something that kept me stable. If I let it go, I’d be cast adrift, floating with no direction. I couldn’t imagine my life without the heft and mass of my failings to keep my feet on the ground.

  “I should clean up the kitchen,” I said, stretching my legs out and testing how my knees felt before putting all my weight on them.

  Leo stood up, looking relieved that my confession was over. He took his laptop from his desk. “I’ll go online and book some flights. At least the boys will be excited to see Grandpa. Can you come?”

  “I can’t risk taking any more time off,” I said. I half-wished I could go, to spend time with Leo and the boys and Dad, but was relieved too that my workload gave me an excuse to miss Francesca’s service. I wasn’t sure I could face a second funeral so soon after my mother’s. Or that I could handle Leo and Dad together, both trying to convince me that the accident hadn’t happened the way I described it or that the moving air was a figment of my wild imagination.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  While Leo booked flights, I helped Aidan and Gabe to pack their cases. Then I headed for bed, bone-tired. Just as I turned out the light, Rebecca texted me to say she couldn’t make the movie the following evening. She suggested lun
ch instead and we agreed to meet at my favorite Chinese restaurant.

  In the morning, I dropped Leo and the boys off at Heathrow for their flight to Italy. We hadn’t spoken any more about my accident or the moving air. The boys were excited and noisy in the back seat; I was glad they were focused on seeing their grandfather, and not so much on the real reason for the trip.

  Back in the city, after dropping off the Zipcar, I reached the restaurant at the same time as Rebecca. The air was eddying around her head, faster and more visible than ever.

  The owner, a tiny trim woman in a red mandarin jacket, hurried to the table when she saw me.

  “Where is your boyfriend?” she asked. “He’s not with you?” It sounded like an accusation.

  I shook my head. “He isn’t my boyfriend.”

  The woman laughed, showing small, perfect white teeth.

  “Of course he your boyfriend,” she said, clapping her hands together. “I see the way he look at you. And you at him.” Still laughing as though I had told her a funny joke, she turned away to greet some new customers.

  “What was that all about?” asked Rebecca.

  “A friend,” I said. “We come here quite often, but he’s not my boyfriend.”

  “The good-looking guy with the dark hair? What’s his name, Josh?”

  I nodded.

  “Why not?” she asked. “Why aren’t you dating him? He’s gorgeous.”

  She sighed, and yet again I found myself wondering about her own love life.

  “Well, he hasn’t asked me out,” I said. Then I realized he had, sort of, the other day. I hadn’t exactly jumped all over the invitation and now perhaps he wouldn’t ask again.

  I picked up the menu. “Let’s eat.”

  After ordering, we drank jasmine tea while we waited for the food. Although I asked a few questions about her boyfriend, Edward, Rebecca didn’t seem to want to talk about him, so instead I asked her about her family.

  “My Mum and Dad are in Bournemouth,” she said. “They retired there a few years ago. They like the beach and the sea air.”

  We paused while the waiter put down plates of potstickers, rice and kung pao shrimp.

  “You don’t have any siblings?” I couldn’t remember ever meeting Rebecca’s family. At graduation, when I might have met them, we were in different sections of the hall and hadn’t seen each other at all.

  “No, just me and my parents,” she said. Her eyes drifted to somewhere over my shoulder and I half-turned to see if there was someone behind me, but there was no one. She refocused on me and changed the subject. We talked about Italy. She said she’d love to have more time to travel.

  The waiter came by to clear our plates, and left more tea and a plate of fortune cookies. Rebecca took a cookie, broke it in half and pulled out the slip of white paper, laughing. “I love reading these things,” she said.

  “‘You will discover the truth about the one you love,’” she quoted. Her smile faded. “I wonder what that could mean.” Crumpling the paper in her hand, she put it on the table. “Here, let’s do one for you.”

  She opened a second cookie and read the fortune aloud. “’If you speak honestly, everyone will listen.’” She handed the little piece of paper to me. I stared at it.

  Should I speak honestly? Tell Rebecca about the air over her head and my fear that it was a portent of some kind? Of course not. She’d think I was mad. I thought I was crazy and so did Leo.

  “Are you all right?” Rebecca asked, looking concerned.

  “Yes, I’m fine. Still getting a headache from time to time.”

  “I really think you should get some medical help,” she said. I told her about the doctor visit and the scheduled CT scan.

  “Oh good,” she said. “It’s sensible to be sure that there was no damage done when you were hit by that car. Do you want me to come with you?”

  “No, but thanks for offering. I’m going to sneak out at lunchtime and hope it will be as quick as possible. If Alan realizes I’m away from my desk, he’ll have a fit.”

  She laughed. “He does seem a bit scary.”

  The waiter brought more tea. I took a sip and then put the cup down on the table, thinking of the fortune cookie message. Be honest, it said. My one attempt at honesty had earned me a lecture from my brother. But I thought that Rebecca would be more understanding. At the very least, I owed her a warning.

  “There’s something I want to talk to you about,” I said. I cleared my throat to stop my voice from shaking. “Since the accident, I’ve been seeing these strange visions, of air moving around over people’s heads. Well, not all people. Just a few.”

  Rebecca tilted her head to one side. “Visions? Goodness, Kate, I’m so glad you’re getting a scan tomorrow. But who has this air moving over them? People you know, or strangers on the street?”

  “Both,” I said. “Strangers and…” My voice croaked to a stop. I drank some more tea. “And friends.”

  She stared at me. “Do you mean me?”

  I nodded. She reached up and moved her hand across the top of her head. “Is it there now?”

  “Yes.”

  “What does it mean?”

  I couldn’t tell her that Francesca was dead.

  “I don’t know. It could be nothing, or it could mean you’re going to, I don’t know, fall in love or find some money.”

  I tried to laugh, but Rebecca’s face was like stone.

  “That’s really weird, Kate. How many others?”

  “Just a few. A man on the Tube, a little girl in a park. A friend of my Dad’s.”

  I hurried on, before she could ask me any more questions.

  “Anyway, I’ll know more after the test tomorrow. Maybe I have a swelling or something that’s messing up my vision. My aunt had something like it once. Well, vertigo, I think it was, and she saw everything double for weeks.” I was rambling, unsure how to stop talking.

  To my surprise, Rebecca smiled. “You’ve always been a little eccentric, Kate. We relied on you to make life interesting and you usually did. Do you remember when we all shrink-wrapped every single object in Sheila’s room, including her bed?”

  “You remember that?”

  “Of course. And that time when we covered the whole whiteboard in the lecture theater with sticky notes and Professor Ormond didn’t know what to do with them.”

  I smiled at her, grateful for the reminder of the fun we’d had. My college years had been a good time for me. Away from home and the constant reminders of my little brother, I’d relaxed and enjoyed all that university life had to offer.

  When I turned my attention back to Rebecca, she was still recounting details of our pranks; she seemed to be ignoring what I had told her about the moving air. In spite of my anxiety for her, I smiled. She had a flair for telling stories. Even though I knew she was embellishing, her recounting of our student exploits was funny. We were still laughing when the waiter came back with the bill. I offered to pay, but Rebecca grabbed the check and put her credit card down on it.

  “My treat. I feel badly about not being able to make the movie this evening.”

  “That’s all right. I hope you have a good time with Edward.”

  “Edward? Oh, right. I’m sure I will.”

  “What are you going to do? Dinner?” I knew I was pressing, but I was desperate to learn more about the boyfriend.

  “Probably. We’ll decide later.”

  “Rebecca, I want you to be careful. I don’t know what the moving air means but I have a feeling it’s not something good.”

  She blinked a few times. “Why do you say that?”

  I crumbled a fortune cookie into tiny pieces on my plate. “I saw the air around someone who died a few days later,” I said. “But I also saw it over the head of a little girl. She nearly drowned, but I was able to save her.”

  Rebecca signed the receipt and waved over the waiter to pick it up.

  “Are you going to save me?” she asked. I flinched at her tone. This was
ridiculous. I had no idea what the aura meant. I should have kept quiet until I knew more. Pushing her chair back, she stood up. “I hope the scan goes well tomorrow,” she said. “Maybe they’ll work out what’s causing these bizarre visions of moving air. Let me know, won’t you?”

  I didn’t blame her for being upset with me. I would be too, if someone had dumped that on me. I stood up, picked up my coat from the back of the chair and put it on.

  Rebecca suddenly smiled. She gave me a hug. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. How about doing our theater trip next Saturday? I’ll get the tickets and call you with the time and where to meet?”

  “Yes, definitely,” I said, although Saturday was far away and the air was moving fast. I was staring too obviously, I realized. Self-consciously, she smoothed the hair on the crown of her head.

  “I must run,” she said. “See you soon, sweetie.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  At lunchtime on Monday, grabbing my bag and coat, I hurried towards the elevator, glad that my knees had mended well enough for me to move with some speed. Praying that I wouldn’t run into Alan, I crossed the lobby and hailed a taxi.

  Ten minutes after arriving at the hospital, I was shivering in a changing room, wearing an ugly grey gown that hung almost to my ankles. I felt like a novice nun, a most unlikely vocation for me, a practicing agnostic.

  I clutched the gown tightly around me. Hospitals made me nervous, really stomach-clenching, sweaty-palm nervous. A nurse took me into a room dominated by a massive machine that whirred and clicked, like an alien spider crouching over me.

  A young technician gave me instructions. He was rather handsome, which motivated me to be brave. I followed his directions carefully, lay still, and managed to smile at his jokes even though I was scared. Not so much about the process, but of the potential result.

  In fact all I had to do was lie very still, while the machine moved over me. It was loud, but not as bad as I’d feared. When it was over, the technician gave me a high five.

  “Good job. You’re a model patient. Wait for a few minutes just outside there,” he said, pointing the way to a small waiting area furnished with several tan-colored sofas and end tables piled with magazines and papers. “I just need to check the scan to make sure I got everything.”