Toby padded along the rim of the pool, yanking up his blue swimming shorts. George went up a couple of steps and then stopped, looking back to the green alligator inflatable he’d been playing with. It wasn’t an alligator. It was a dragon, according to the boys. I’d pointed out that it didn’t have wings and they’d explained that a dragon can fold his wings away when he doesn’t need them. Or when he was taking a dip in the pool.
Toby sat down next to me, pressing his wet arm against mine.
“Eew, you’re cold and wet, move further away,” I said. He grinned and nestled even closer to me.
“Come on, George,” I called. He’d gone back into the water to retrieve the dragon. Holding the inflatable, he clambered up the steps.
A puff of wind made the dragon wriggle in George’s arms. Another, and it was gone, landing in the pool upside down and floating into the middle, out of George’s reach. The boy stood looking at the toy for a few seconds and then scampered back to the shallow end of the pool, and down the steps.
“Leave it, George,” I called. “Come out of the water until your Mum gets back.” Either he didn’t hear me or he chose not to, and I stood up.
“Stay there,” I told Toby. “I’m going to get George out.”
Little horror, I thought, the hot tiles burning the soles of my feet. He and Toby were best friends and went to Pre-K together. They were inseparable. The night before, George had slept over at our house, and I’d helped them set up a tent in Toby’s room, then read them a story by flashlight. George could be sweet, but he was a little spoiled and often defiant.
“George,” I said when I reached the top of the steps. “Come here, right now.” He grinned at me. I was just a ten-year-old girl. He had no desire to do what I wanted.
Hands on my hips, like I’d seen my Mum do when she was cross, I told him again to get out. Maybe the stance did it, because he plodded across the pool, grasping the alligator. I went down a few steps to take his hand. I didn’t want him slipping and hurting himself while I was in charge. We climbed up the steps together and turned back towards the deep end.
There was no sign of Toby. Both his armbands lay on the pool rim, bright red against the creamy stone. I glanced around the garden. Had he gone over to the rope swing? Still holding George’s hand, I pulled him behind me. The alligator flew out of his arms into the pool again, and he began to cry, pulling his hand away from mine. I stopped, saw him run back towards the steps and yelled at him to come back. I had to find Toby, but George was about to get in the water again. The alligator was in the middle of the pool where it was far too deep for him.
For a few seconds, I stood, undecided, then the sun bounced off a ripple at the far end of the pool. My heart lurched. Shouting to George to stand still, I ran, seeing though the reflections on the bright surface, a glimpse of darker blue against the sky blue of the water. I jumped in feet first and then swam down, taking deep breaths. I wasn’t a strong swimmer. Hated getting water in my eyes. Nervously, I opened them and felt the sting of chlorine. Toby was lying on the bottom bobbing slightly in the movement of the water. With a surge of frantic energy, I reached him, grabbed his arm and then swam up. It just took a few kicks of my feet until my head reached the surface and I took a breath.
I pulled Toby up, got his face out of the water. His eyes were closed. “Wake up, Toby. Wake up!”
“Get your mother,” I screamed at George, who was standing on the steps, water up to his ankles. I reached up for the pool rim and held Toby up with the other arm. His head flopped forward, his face in the water again. Crying, letting go of the rim, I trod water, panicking, supporting Toby’s head with both hands. George hadn’t moved.
Everything after that was a blur; a vague memory of the siren of an ambulance, men in dark suits rushing to the pool side. Mrs. Parry crying. My mother, weeping, my dad standing stiff and unmoving, bright sun shining on the tiny white casket, the wilted clump of basil I threw into the grave.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I finished washing the chopping boards and knives and wiped down the surface next to the sink. Leo was humming loudly as he collected knives and forks. When he was in a particularly good mood he’d sing, belting out songs that had the boys rolling their eyes. His repertoire consisted mostly of music from before he was born, like Stairway to Heaven and Supertramp’s Dreamer, and what he lacked in talent he made up for in volume.
I glanced at my watch again. Aidan was supposed to be back at seven. It was two minutes past. I began scrubbing the sink, wanting to stay busy, to keep my mind off the aura that hung over my nephew’s head. Another glance at my watch. It was five past seven.
“Aidan’s late,” I said.
Leo stopped humming and looked at the digital clock on the stove. “He’ll be back in a minute.”
He carried the handful of utensils into the dining alcove in the living room. The brief warmth of the previous day had been chased away by grey clouds and a light drizzle. I opened a window to air out the kitchen, and heard the evensong of birds and in the distance, the wail of a police siren. My stomach churned. I did my best to ignore it. A police car in the neighborhood didn’t mean anything, but I checked the time again.
Leo came back in to collect napkins.
“Shouldn’t Aidan be back by now? Maybe you should call his friend’s house to see where he is?” I asked.
My brother shrugged. “It’s not like him to be late, but let’s give him another few minutes. They were probably engrossed in all that Latin.”
Fifteen minutes later, with dinner ready and staying warm in the oven, Leo began to look concerned. “I’ll call Ryan’s mother.”
I heard him talking in the hallway. When he came back he was frowning. “Aidan left their house nearly forty minutes ago. He should have been back by now. I’m going to drive that way.”
“I’ll come with you,” I said. Leo didn’t argue. He told Gabe to stay home in case Aidan came back by a different route. Once we were in the Land Rover, Leo shifted fast through the gears, speeding along the tranquil residential street. Neither of us spoke. Leo’s anxiety had dissolved my last shreds of confidence that all was well, and I felt sick to my stomach. He braked to take a right hand turn and came to a screeching stop. The road was closed ahead, filled with emergency vehicles. Blue lights turned on top of an ambulance, behind several police cars that were parked to block the road.
“Oh my God,” I said, fumbling to undo my seat belt.
“Maybe you should wait here,” said Leo, already opening his door. He headed towards a group of people who were watching as two paramedics wheeled an empty gurney from the ambulance. I scrambled out of my seat to catch up with him. Beyond the police vehicles was a car, or what was left of it. Its front end was planted in a telegraph pole, the windscreen shattered and the airbags deployed.
“Car hit a pedestrian and then swerved out of control,” I heard a man telling Leo. I felt the ground under my feet soften like quicksand, threatening to swallow me. My feet stopped moving, my legs were like columns of cement, and I was incapable of any forward motion.
“Was the pedestrian badly hurt?” asked Leo. His voice was remarkably steady, I thought, although it seemed to be coming from far away.
“I dunno. But I’d guess that’s a body under that blanket over there.” The man pointed past the telegraph pole where I glimpsed a grey cloth on the ground, surrounded by several uniformed police officers.
Leo glanced back at me. His face was ashen.
“Go back to the car, Kate,” he said. “I have to find someone official to talk to.”
“I’ll wait here. You go.” I watched him move away, pushing past the onlookers to get closer to the policemen. The streetlights flickered on, casting long shadows across the road. The red and blue lights threw patterns on the asphalt and faces grew indistinct in the twilight. Fear had coiled my stomach into an impenetrable knot. I found it hard to breathe. Waiting alone in the dusky light, I began to shiver and leaned over, hands on my knees,
hoping to fend off the nausea that was building inside.
“Are you all right, miss?”
I looked up to see a policeman standing over me.
“Just worried sick,” I said. “My nephew is missing and this is the way he would have walked home from his friend’s house.”
I looked towards the grey blanket.
“Your nephew? Tall lanky kid with blonde hair?”
The pavement shifted and I felt the blood draining from my face.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Hey, you’re okay. Take some deep breaths.”
I opened my eyes, saw disembodied hazy faces floating in the darkness.
“Do you want to sit up?” It was Leo’s voice. When his face came into focus, I saw that he was smiling. Why was he smiling? Aidan was dead. I must be dreaming, I thought, closing my eyes again, shutting out the pain.
“Aunty Kate? Can you stand up? I’m hungry and I want to go home.”
Minutes later, I was in the back seat of the Land Rover. Aidan was in front, sitting next to his Dad, telling us how he saw the accident and was nearly struck by the car.
“If it hadn’t gone into the pole, it would have kept going over the curb and hit me,” he said. “A man came out of a house nearby. He called the police and said I should stay to be a witness. It wasn’t the driver’s fault. The lady just stepped out right in front of the car and the driver tried to swerve, but he still hit her.”
When Aidan stopped talking, Leo put out his hand and patted his son’s knee. He drove slowly, but we soon reached the house, where he turned off the engine and the three of us sat in silence for a minute. My breathing had returned to normal, but my hands were still trembling. Although I peered through the seats to look at Aidan, I could see only saw his arm and shoulder. I couldn’t tell if the aura had gone or not.
“I’ll go make sure Gabe is all right,” I said, pushing the door open. “He’ll be worried.”
In fact, Gabe didn’t appear to notice we’d been gone. He was engrossed in a television show and managed a quick greeting before his eyes drifted back to the screen. I checked on the food in the oven. Although I’d stopped shaking, my thoughts were rampaging wildly. By his own account, Aidan had narrowly missed being hit by the out of control car. If the aura was presaging that accident, and he had survived it, then the aura would be gone. He would be out of danger. When I heard Leo and Aidan come into the kitchen, I braced myself to look at Aidan. Setting the dish carefully on the counter, I took off the oven mitts and turned around.
Leo had his arm around Aidan’s shoulders and was ruffling his blonde hair. “You did the right thing to stay, son. You’re probably feeling a bit of shock, seeing someone run over. I’m sorry you had to go through that.” He let go as Aidan tried to wriggle out of his grasp.
“I’m fine,” said Aidan. “Can I go watch television with Gabe?”
I leaned against the counter so that my legs would hold my up better. The aura was still there, faint but definitely present. How could that be? I was sure it would have disappeared, that this had been a close shave but a disaster averted. The temporary hope I’d harbored ran away like sand through my fingers, and I felt a heavy, dark weight pushing down on me.
Leo pulled out a couple of wine glasses and uncorked a Montalcino that he knew I liked.
“We deserve this,” he said. “It was rough for a while not knowing what had happened to Aidan.”
Taking the glass from his hand, I sat on a counter stool. “He was lucky.”
Leo took the stool next to me and swiveled it to look at me. “You doing all right? You sort of fell apart back there.”
“I was scared,” I said. “I’m sorry I got all wobbly on you, but I didn’t know what to think. You must have felt the same way, though? Afraid that he’d been hit by the car?”
“Of course I did. But I suppose I’m good at taking things one step at a time and not panicking.” He paused and took a gulp of wine. “We’d better eat that food before we drink any more. Can you dish some up for the boys? We’ll let them eat in the living room.”
I went through the motions of putting food on plates and carrying them in to the boys, but my mind was on Aidan. I warned them not to spill on the sofa, but knew that Leo wouldn’t really care if they did. Some things were way down his list of things to worry about.
While Leo and I ate, I had an idea. “How about if I get a cell phone for Aidan? I can add a line to my plan. At least this evening he would have been able to call you to tell you what had happened.”
Leo shook his head, swallowing his food before answering. “I don’t want him to have a phone yet. He’ll spend hours texting his friends and he’d never think to use it for anything as practical as a call to me. It would be a waste of money.”
“But a phone is a good safety device,” I insisted. “Just a precaution in case he ever needs to get hold of you urgently.”
Leo put down his knife and fork and looked at me.
“So, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you? You’ve been fretting about Aidan ever since you got here, and didn’t want to let him out of your sight. Now you’re talking about safety and urgent calls. I don’t get it.”
“I just have a bad feeling,” I stopped when I saw the look on Leo’s face.
“A bad feeling about what?”
“I don’t know, just a feeling.”
Leo stood up to carry his plate to the sink.
“Are you going to explain that?”
“I can’t,” I replied. I wound a thread of hair around my finger, tighter and tighter until the blood stopped flowing and my finger turned numb.
“Can’t or don’t want to?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Try me. I’m a smart guy.” Leo’s tone was cold.
“Aidan has the moving air over his head. Like Francesca.”
“Jeez, Kate. I thought we discussed that and agreed it was a mirage or something.”
“We didn’t agree, Leo. The aura predicts death. My friend Rebecca had one and she died.”
Leo held up his hand. “Hold on. Someone you know died? Since I last saw you?”
“Two people. That little girl I thought I’d saved from drowning, and a friend. It’s crazy, I know.”
“Crazy? It’s fucking lunacy,” he replied. I winced as though he had slapped my face. He never swore and I couldn’t remember the last time he’d lost his temper with me.
“So you are telling me that you can see this air rippling over Aidan’s head,” he continued, “and that makes you think he’s going to die? Of what?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “Don’t shout. The boys will hear you.”
“Right,” he said, coming back to sit down next to me. “Tell me what you do know.”
I told him about Rebecca and Sophie, and then about Alan and how his aura had disappeared.
“So the outcome can be changed?” Leo asked, keeping his voice low.
“Yes. With Alan, I didn’t do anything. Something came up at home and that changed everything he’d planned to do that weekend. The danger passed. His aura disappeared.”
Leo took another big gulp of wine. “So what do you think is going to happen to Aidan? Christ, I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. This is my boy we’re talking about. I couldn’t… if anything happened to him…”
I reached out and put my hand over his. “I’m sorry.”
“When? I mean, how long?”
I took a deep breath. It was surreal, talking like this. “The aura is very faint and that does seem to have some significance. I think the clearer it is, the sooner the event is likely to happen. But, honestly, Leo, I don’t know anything for certain. This is all new and overwhelming. I’ve had, what, four experiences. Not enough to be sure of anything.”
Leo was watching me. He seemed to be battling a potent mix of anger and disbelief.
“Kate, I’m a mathematician. I deal in facts, numbers, reality. This is, I don’t know, a phant
asma. It’s not real.”
“You think I’m delusional, that none of this has actually happened?” I heard my voice rising, a knife edge of hysteria cutting through my self-control. “Why would I make something like this up, Leo? I hate it. I hate seeing that something bad is going to happen to someone. I wish I couldn’t.”
“You okay, Aunty Kate?” It was Gabe, who had come in with the two empty plates. He put them in the sink and stared at me, his eyes wide. “Are you two arguing?”
“No, we’re not,” said Leo. “But we do need to carry on a private conversation, please.”
“Can I get some ice cream first? Before you go back to arguing?”
Without waiting for an answer, he hurried to the freezer and took out a pint of ice cream. Grabbing two spoons from the drawer, he rushed out of the kitchen.
I blinked several times, feeling hot, heavy tears in my eyes.
“So what am I supposed to do?” Leo asked. “Believe you and accept that Aidan is in danger, or ignore everything you’ve said and suggest you get some medical help? What kind of choice is that, Kate? I don’t want to believe you. How could I?”
His shoulders slumped. “Fuck it,” he said. He finished the rest of his wine.
The tears fell down my cheeks and I watched them fall, unhindered, on to the granite countertop.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I left Leo’s early on Sunday, after a breakfast eaten mostly in silence. He seemed incapable of looking at me and I couldn’t find any words to bridge the chasm that had opened between us. Kissing Aidan on the forehead, I’d told him to be good. Seeing the aura made me feel nauseous.
On Sunday afternoon, I went to the mobile phone store to buy a cell phone. It was a fairly simple model, but it had a keyboard for texting and I set it up on a basic calling plan. I packaged it and addressed it to Aidan. I knew Leo wouldn’t approve, but I had to do something.
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