The Aura

by Carrie Bedford

  He walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge and took out a half-full bottle of white wine. Pouring two glasses, he came back and gave me one.

  “I need something stronger than tea to handle this,” he said with a grin. We sat together on the sofa, holding hands.

  “So, you’ve seen this aura three times…”

  “More than that,” I said. “But sometimes with strangers, so I don’t know what happened to them. I try not to think about it, really.”

  He nodded. “I can understand that. He took a long swallow of wine and put the glass on the table. Without thinking, I picked it up, placing it on the coaster. He laughed.

  “You always were a control freak,” he said. “And I mean that in the nicest possible way.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him, which he answered with a sheepish smile. “It’s true. You’re so organized and efficient. Everything has to be orderly. Until recently, of course. Now you’re a crazy, discombobulated mess. Personally, I find that rather enchanting.”

  Using my elbow, I jabbed his arm. “Watch it. I don’t intend to be like this forever. I’ll soon be back to my old ways.”

  “I like your old ways too,” he said. His grin faded and he looked more serious. “If you hadn’t seen the aura thingy over Rebecca’s head, would you still be worried about her? I mean, she hasn’t hinted about being ill, threatened, suicidal?”

  I thought about it for a few seconds. “No. Nothing. So no, I wouldn’t be concerned.”

  “Well, perhaps you should try not to worry then,” he said. “There’s every chance that there’s no real meaning to the aura and that the two deaths you’ve told me about are just coincidences. Besides, Rebecca is a grown-up. I’m sure she’s very capable of looking after herself.”

  I looked up at him. There was something about his tone of voice. “You don’t like her?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve only met her a couple of times, but she does seem kind of superficial.” He stopped when he saw the expression on my face. “Ok, that’s judgmental. I’m sorry. I’m sure she’s a good person.”

  “She is, once you get to know her. I think with her being so beautiful, it changes how people relate to her.”

  “You’re beautiful, but you’re also kind and thoughtful. You’re real.”

  I took a moment to let Josh’s words sink in, like warm honey on my skin. But, seconds later, the old chill was back. I wanted to believe what Josh was saying about the aura being coincidental, but I was sure it wasn’t. It was his way of dealing with my bizarre confession.

  “The aura’s real too, Josh.”

  He nodded. “I believe you. Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it. We’ll get it sorted out, I promise.”

  My eyelids were feeling heavy. I realized I was really tired. I drained my wineglass and leaned back against the cushions. “I’m sorry. I need an early night. Everything still hurts.”

  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay by yourself?” he asked. “I could sleep on the sofa if you don’t want to be alone.”

  I shook my head. “I’m so tired, I’ll be asleep before you even reach the bottom of the stairs. Thank you though for listening, and for caring…”

  Leaning towards him, I kissed him briefly, on the lips. It was tempting to have him stay, but I knew that I wasn’t in control of my emotions. I felt capable of laughing hysterically and bursting into tears, both at the same time. I didn’t want to weird him out any more than I already had.

  His jacket was still damp when I picked it up. While I watched him pull it on, I wrestled with conflicting desires. To sleep, or to stay up all night, drinking wine and talking with him. He pulled me towards him, stroking my hair back from my face.

  “Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I wanted to answer but my throat hurt too much. Tears made my eyes burn as I watched him close the door gently behind him.

  CHAPTER TEN

  There was a meeting with the Montgomery group on Tuesday morning. Arriving early at the conference room, I took a seat, and watched everyone else file in. Josh sat opposite me.

  “You okay?” he asked, while Peter Montgomery and three of his associates took their seats.

  I nodded, grateful for his concern.

  “Are we ready to begin?” Alan asked. He seemed to be more orange than usual, or maybe it was the lavender polo shirt that exacerbated his skin tone.

  “Where’s Rebecca?” I asked, looking at Montgomery.

  He shrugged, glancing at his assistants with an eyebrow raised in query.

  “I don’t know,” one of them said.

  “Is she sick?” I demanded, leaning forward in my chair. I caught a glimpse of a warning glance from Josh and sensed Alan tensing at the end of the table.

  “She was away from her desk yesterday?” the man replied, his voice rising into a question of his own, clearly unsure that he needed to respond to me.

  “Didn’t anyone bother to find out why she’s not here today?” I stood up.

  “That’s enough, Kate. Please sit down.” Alan’s tone was of barely subdued fury.

  Peter Montgomery looked at me. “I don’t understand what business it is of yours,” he said, a deep frown forming over his blue eyes.

  “Rebecca’s my friend. I’m worried about her.”

  “Your friend? Well, I’m sure there’s nothing to be concerned about,” he said condescendingly. “People take time off work when they have a cold, or a hangover, or when there’s a good sale on at Selfridges. But in Ms. Williams’ case, she could very well be out of town at one of our other offices. We have many of them, which she visits regularly. I’ll check with my secretary when I get back to my office. Now can we please proceed?”

  I thought about it. Rebecca could be away on business, but wouldn’t she have answered my text from yesterday? Even if she were really busy?

  “I need to make a quick call,” I said walking towards the door.

  “Kate, please come and sit down,” said Alan quietly. I turned to look back. He looked like a python coiled and ready to strike. Josh had one hand over his eyes as though he couldn’t bear to watch. The Montgomery money men were reading files, oblivious to it all, or pretending to be, and Montgomery’s eyes were cold, his mouth pursed in disapproval.

  I walked out, closing the door carefully behind me. My fingers trembled as I pressed the buttons for Rebecca’s number. I knew a major confrontation with Alan would come later, but I couldn’t worry about that now. The call went to voicemail. I tried again and left a voicemail telling Rebecca to call me right back, then stood motionless, unsure of what to do. Finally I walked back to my office. I’d barely sat down when Alan arrived. He leaned both hands on the desk opposite me, his face flushed with anger.

  “What the fuck are you up to?” he demanded. “Peter Montgomery is our biggest client, and you just walked out on him. Now please get back in there and do your job.”

  “I just need to check in on Rebecca.”

  “You can do that later.”

  I hesitated. I felt like I was walking along the rim of a cliff and the ground was subsiding beneath me. If I didn’t do as Alan said, this could be the end of my employment at Bradley Cohen. But I was worried sick about Rebecca. I realized that I hadn’t heard from her all day Monday. It had been such a crazy day that I hadn’t noticed. Now, I felt crushed with guilt. I was supposed to be looking out for her and I didn’t even know where she was. But I couldn’t lose my job.

  I nodded at Alan. “I’m sorry.”

  “Whatever,” Alan said and headed back towards the conference room. I followed him and took my seat. Josh looked relieved to see me and, for his sake, I did my best to focus on the discussion and do my part. The meeting lasted for several hours and then Alan requested we stay for a review meeting after Montgomery and his crew had left. It was mid-afternoon by the time we wrapped up. The conference table was littered with paper plates and remnants of sandwiches, empty cans and cups and a mini-blizzard of rejected not
es and drawings. While everyone packed up and left the room, I swept the debris into a wastepaper basket.

  “We have people who do that, you know,” came a voice from the door. I looked up to see Jack Cohen beaming at me.

  He was dressed in a suit and a green bow tie, a matching handkerchief poking out of his breast pocket. The bow tie was a fixture, with a daily change of color.

  “How are you, my dear?” he asked.

  “I’m fine, thanks, Jack, How are you? Looking very dapper in green today.”

  Jack smiled widely, sending a battalion of wrinkles marching over his cheeks and forehead. He was in his sixties but fit and wiry. He’d run the London Marathon for the first time the previous year and was in training for the one in New York.

  “Good, good,” he said. “I heard on the grapevine that you had an accident, and that the road to recovery has been a little bumpy?”

  Alan complaining about me, no doubt. I briefly explained that I’d been hit by a car, and apologized for taking time out.

  “I’m much better now,” I said, half-expecting him to tell me I was fired or on probation. But he just looked at me with concern in his eyes.

  “You let me know if there’s anything I can do,” he said. “Although I won’t be around much for the next week or so. I’ve got an outing planned for later this week, followed by a business trip to Edinburgh early next week.”

  I pushed the last paper plate into the bin and set it down in the corner. “Well, send me a postcard.”

  “I might just do that.”

  I went back to my office to call Rebecca again, but there was still no answer. Josh dropped by to say he was going off-site with Alan. I breathed a sigh of relief. With Alan out for the rest of the afternoon, I’d be able to leave early.

  Ben walked past my office, seemed to think of something and came back to my door.

  “So, you’re spending time with the Montgomery Financial Director outside of the office?” he asked.

  “We’re just friends,” I answered. “There’s nothing sinister going on.”

  Ben’s pale moon face crumpled in mock amusement. “Friends? That’s fast. No one makes friends that quickly.”

  “No one would make friends with you that quickly,” I retorted. “But, no, we knew each other in college.”

  That silenced him for a few seconds, but then he started again. “Even so, it’s against company policy to socialize with clients,” he said. “You might be giving out information on details that we’re not ready to commit to yet.”

  “Rebecca’s not going to hold us to anything I tell her in a social setting,” I said. “Besides, we don’t talk about work.”

  “Says you,” sneered Ben. Although I knew better, I was provoked into arguing back.

  “I promise you, this is just about two girls having lunch or a glass of wine together. We’re not sharing corporate secrets or planning the overthrow of the male-dominated management regime. The future of Bradley Cohen is not at stake. I think you’re over-reacting.”

  Ben sniffed. “I doubt that Alan sees it that way.”

  “I’m busy, Ben. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. And I’m sure you do too.”

  I called Rebecca’s cell several more times and on the third call, got a recorded message saying that her voicemail box was full. The minutes dragged by. Every time I looked at the time in the corner of my computer monitor, I thought the screen had frozen. Finally, when the display showed 5p.m. I packed my briefcase, grabbed my coat and headed for the Tube.

  Back at home, I dumped my briefcase in the hall. After putting the kettle on for tea, I changed into jeans and a warm sweater. I thought of calling Josh to ask his advice, but he was probably still out with Alan. I could go over to Rebecca’s flat to see if she were there, but she would have answered her phone. Peter Montgomery seemed to think she could be working elsewhere. Still, she had been out of touch for a long time, and that bothered me.

  I took my cup to the living room, feeling my anxiety harden into a rock of foreboding that sat like lead in my stomach. Taking a last gulp of tea, I opened my laptop and started searching for the name Williams in Bournemouth. Maybe her parents would know where she was. There were ten listings, fewer than I’d feared, but the first five rang through to voicemail or to voicemail boxes that were full and refusing messages. Maybe nobody checked their landlines nowadays. On the sixth call, a woman answered. I asked for Rebecca.

  “Who the hell is Rebecca?” she said. “And who are you? Do you know my husband?”

  I rang off quickly and kept going, tapping numbers into my iPhone and feeling a little stupid. On the ninth call, a man responded. “Williams household. Who’s calling please?”

  “Mr. Williams. I’m wondering if Rebecca is there?”

  After a short pause, he replied. “No, I’m sorry. Who is this?”

  “I’m a friend of Rebecca’s. You wouldn’t happen to know where she is, would you?”

  “Well, she’ll be at home, I’d think,” he said. “Or maybe still at the office. She does seem to work long hours.”

  I didn’t want to worry him by telling him she hadn’t turned up for work. “I lost her cell phone number,” I continued. “So I haven’t been able to reach her. I’m sorry to bother you.”

  “Oh, no bother, I can give you her number,” he said. I was touched by how trusting he was. Pretending to take note of the number, I thanked him and was about to ring off when he asked “Are you Kate, by any chance?”

  “Yes, Kate Benedict,” I said, wondering how he could know who I was.

  “Rebecca was here on Friday night. She told us she’d bumped into you. You were dorm mates in college, weren’t you? She sounded very happy that you are going to be friends again.”

  “Thank you, Mr Williams,” I said. “I’m happy too.”

  I tried to think of a way to ask him when he’d last heard from Rebecca without alarming him, but he was already saying goodbye. At least I knew that she wasn’t in Bournemouth.

  Feeling rather morbid, I scanned some Internet news sites for any news of accidents or deaths in the London area, but nothing came up. I tried Rebecca’s cell again and when she didn’t pick up, I went to get my jacket and scarf. If she were at home, then she might be sick, perhaps sleeping with her phone turned off.

  I joined the tail end of the late evening commute on the Tube, got off at Sloane Square, and hurried through the quiet streets to Rebecca’s house. Under the amber light of the street lamps, I could see my breath curling away in the cold air. An elderly lady walked past with a little dog on a leash. It was wearing a red jacket and matching red socks.

  The bell for Rebecca’s apartment was lit and clearly marked. I pushed it several times, but there was no answer. Stepping back from the entry on to the pavement, I looked up at her windows. They were dark; the curtains were open and no lights were on, so it seemed obvious that she was away, perhaps on business, or perhaps at her boyfriend’s place. Now I was standing here in the cold, I felt rather silly. Of course, she could be with her boyfriend. She had seen him on Sunday evening, which was why she had cancelled our movie plans. If he was available for a couple of days, then maybe she had just decided to call in sick. I tried to ignore my hurt feelings. Surely she would have responded to my texts.

  A taxi circled the square and pulled up a few yards away. I waited. Perhaps it was Rebecca coming home. The back door opened. A young couple paid the driver before making their way to the house next door. Defeated, I turned to walk back to the Tube station.

  I had a thought, turned back, and walked up the black and white tiled pathway. The two men who lived in the flat on the second floor, what were their names? Nick and Gary? They might know where Rebecca was. I glanced up to confirm that their lights were on, a lambent glow behind gold-colored curtains. I pressed the button labeled Nick Carpenter. After a few seconds a voice came over the intercom.

  “Yes? Who is it?” His voice was smooth and warm, like cafe latte.

  “My nam
e is Kate,” I answered. “We met about a week ago. I’m a friend of Rebecca’s.”

  After a pause, Nick replied. “What can I do for you, Kate?”

  “I’m worried about her.” I hated talking into the brass speaker plate. “Can I speak to you inside?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  There was a long silence, before I heard the door click open. Stepping into the elegant entryway, I waited, unsure whether Nick would come down to meet me. After a minute or so, he appeared at the top of the gently-lit stairs and waved me up. He was dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt, with bare feet. Music leaked from the open door of his apartment. I recognized the percussive piano notes of Thelonius Monk.

  “Thank you,” I said, a little breathless from hurrying up the stairs. “I haven’t heard from Rebecca since Sunday and she hasn’t been to the office for two days. I’m worried that she might be ill…”

  I stopped, gripping the banister. Nick had an aura. It was faint but there.

  “Have you seen her?” I finished, but my thoughts were on what Nick’s aura could mean. What danger could there be to two people in the same building? Poisoning, toxic air, what was the name of that gas? Carbon monoxide. Or a building collapse? I realized my hand was hurting from grasping the smooth wood rail so tightly and I let go, feeling unsteady on my feet.

  Nick cocked his head to one side. “Not since Friday actually. We chatted for a minute or two while we picked up our mail downstairs. I didn’t see her over the weekend because Gary and I were away until Sunday evening. We went to Brussels on the Eurostar, did some shopping, ate some amazing food and lots and lots of chocolate.” He shrugged. “Sorry, that’s all irrelevant, I know. So that was it. I didn’t see her this morning because Gary and I overslept. We just flew out of here in a rush to get to work.”

  “She’s not answering her phone or responding to texts,” I said, “and she didn’t answer when I rang the bell just now.”