by Aline Riva
Bess had been surprised to see her back so early, and Cherry heard her asking, What went wrong? Did he not show up? Did you argue? Why aren't you speaking to me? Have you been crying?
All the while she fired off questions, Cherry took off her coat and hat and scarf, letting the melting snow drip to the hallway carpet as she hung up her coat, then she had walked off and gone into her bedroom.
After closing the door and kicking off her boots, she had sobbed into her pillow for more than an hour. Eventually the door had opened, the light had come on and Bess had joined her, sitting on the edge of her bed and asking again, demanding now to know what the hell was wrong.
She told her. There was little to say but the fact that Drake was dead, and then she had sat up and sobbed again and Bess had brought her tissues and made her some tea.
By half past nine she had stopped crying because her eyes hurt and she felt as if she had used up all her tears yet still her heart was painfully cracked. Drake was not a man she could forget easily.
“You'll get over him eventually,” Bess promised her.
“I'll see him every day, he wanted to be kept in the museum after his death... Owen said Drake will be preserved in a glass case and kept as an exhibit in the entrance hall – it was his final wish, he even put it in his will!”
Her eyes grew wider.
“Oh Cherry, you can't take that job, not now! You can't go into that place and spend days there locked away with his dead body, that's so weird!”
Cherry thought about it, and then she managed a smile.
“But in a weird sort of way it helps, to know he got his last wish. And I knew him, at least, I met him once while he was alive. He was such a nice guy. I want to work there, its the only thing I can do for him now.”
“Aren't you scared?” Bess asked.
“Of what?”
“Being that close to a dead body.”
“No, of course not! He's preserved, he's at peace... You don't know how much he loved the museum. He told me all about how he dedicated his life to the place. It was his whole life. It's only right that he gets to stay there forever.”
“I think that's creepy,” she replied, “I get that you don't, but I do! Sorry, Cherry – but if it was me I'd never go back to that place again.”
“I thought you liked the museum?”
“I don't mind witchcraft displays and dusty old bones but the preserved former owner sat behind a glass case is too much for me.”
“I'm just doing what feels right...I can't believe he's gone, Bess!”
As she gave into her sorrow and gave another sob, Bess handed her another tissue and Cherry dabbed at her aching eyes.
“Poor Drake – he didn't look ill, he was so alive, so happy... On the day he died he was making new plans with his business partner, plans for the museum. He just didn't know it was his last days on earth. He had so much to live for.”
Bess thought about it some more and guessed there was nothing to be gained by trying to persuade her to stay away from the place when she was so determined to do the only thing she still could for the late owner. It had been a while since Cherry had been so interested in a guy, and for him to die like this was terrible.
“I'm thirty one and no matter how hard I try to find some happiness, it always goes wrong,” Cherry said, “Maybe it always will.”
“Oh no, don't start that again -”
“But it's true, Bess! One guy left me for another woman, then I met a guy who dated me for six months and asked me to marry him then called it off because he then said didn't want to get married. It's one disaster after another, there's been so many - and now I meet Drake and he dies. He actually dies before we can go for dinner!”
“And he didn't have a choice about that,” Bess reminded her.
“I know that,” Cherry replied, as her aching eyes stung with more tears, “Thanks for listening. I need an early night.”
“You know where I am if you need to talk,” Bess reminded her, then she got up and left the room.
Long after she had turned out the light, Cherry stayed awake, watching the snow fall beyond the window as the white blanket that was covering everything grew deeper as her thoughts stayed with Drake and what might have been.
Chapter 3
The snowfall stopped and started, thawed and then light flurries began again. While Bess put up more decorations and the front room started to sparkle with an overload of tinsel and now three sets of Christmas lights, Cherry had never felt so far away from the seasonal warmth and cheer as her heart ached for Drake. She started to smile and nod and agree when Bess asked if she liked what she had done with the extra decorations, she kept that smile on her face reserved just for her friend, a smile she was glad to stop forcing when she closed the bedroom door at night and once she was alone, she was able to be sad again. There was something almost illegal about being sad at Christmas time, Christmas was just over a week away and everyone, everywhere, seemed to be happy just because they felt the spirit of seasonal cheer and goodwill. She didn't doubt there were miserable people out there too, but they were probably doing the same thing she did, hiding it and being secretly sad. She went out and bought gifts, wrapped them then left them under the tree, she called home and told her parents she would be over to see them on boxing day. She didn't mention she had met a man who had touched her heart and then died. It was Christmas time, everyone was happy – it would have made her feel guilty to start crying and dampen the good mood. No one wanted to hear about how sad she was at the loss of what might have been, or the loss to this world of someone who was warm and enthusiastic about life. It just didn't seem fair when everyone she cared about was ready to celebrate.
The days dragged by, the snow fell on and off and this time it didn't thaw. Initial problems with the roads were dealt with swiftly, grit turned the snowy roads to slush and once again the traffic flowed. The world was covered with a blanket of white, growing thicker with every flurry of snow, every night it silently fell from a cold sky on to a cold world. Cherry had been waiting for the call and when it came, she was slightly comforted by the thought that tomorrow she would be starting work at the same place where Drake Ambrose had chosen to take his final rest.
That evening she had lost count of how many times she had said okay. Yes, she was okay, and okay, she would call her if she needed her... Bess worried, of course she did. She knew how hard Drake's death had hit her, but she was convinced she was over that shock now, and that was fine by Cherry, because it was not her loss or her pain or her sadness to understand.
Cherry had gone to bed early that night, thoughts caught between the past and a future without Drake's presence at the museum – yet he would still be there, sort of...
As she laid back and sleep tugged at her, pulling her towards a state of drifting lightly, she lifted heavy lids and cast a glance to the window and watched flakes of snow drifting downward from a swirling sky, wishing she could reach out and catch one as if it were a fragment of time itself, then she thought of her and Drake at the museum, standing together in the entrance hall, their eyes meeting for the first time. If only that moment could have been captured in a snow globe, a single moment to stand forever... preserved like a ship in a bottle...or a body under glass...
As sleep claimed her, she knew she was drifting into a dream where the doors of the museum were wide open, inside lights were blazing, outside the sky was dark and the snow was falling but she did not feel the cold as she approached the steps to the entrance. She knew this was just a dream and what it held she could only wait to discover but it was not something she wanted to fight, the need to enter the place was pulling her in...
It was definitely a dream but it felt so real, it was real for the time she dreamed it:
As she stepped inside the door closed heavily behind her. She turned, looked at it, half expecting to see his ghost behind her, but there was no one there. She walked slowly up the entrance hall, seeing herself reflected in the glass of the polis
hed display cases as she passed them. Her fair hair fell to her shoulders, her night gown was sheer and long and almost transparent, making her naked body visible beneath it, yet she felt no chill even though the world outside was frozen.
Her pace slowed as she saw the large display case at the end of the hall, it was not as she had expected it to be, this was the shape of a glass coffin and inside, Drake Ambrose lay dressed in his suit, on his back, his eyes closed and his arms at his sides. He looked asleep, his face was a living shade, warm and nothing like the deathly pallor she had imagined. He was resting on a silk lined interior with a white silk pillow behind his head.
Each step closer felt right, there was nothing about the sight of him to convince her he was dead, preserved and displayed in his own museum like he had wished – he looked very much alive and as her heart began to beat faster her gaze did not leave him as she stepped closer, placing fingertips on the glass lid of the cabinet and letting them slide across its cool surface as she walked the length of the case, stopping at the front end, where she looked down through the glass, taking in the sight of him, looking exactly as he had been when they had last met. Cherry studied every detail of him, his hair, his face, the way he looked like he was merely resting in there...
Then her hand lowered to the side of the case and as she pushed a button and the lid opened up, she looked down at him again now with no glass barrier between them.
As the thought hit her that if magic was real she could wake him with a kiss it seemed in the world of dreams even fairy tales had true meaning as she felt a warm, sweet breeze blow through the museum despite the closed doors that blocked out the elements.
She leaned over the open case, placing a hand on the fabric of his dark suit, over his still chest where she felt no rise and fall of the slightest breath, then she paused to study his face, her sleeping prince...
Today she wanted to believe in magic.
It was shimmering in the air, something she could feel and almost see as the breeze blew again, catching tendrils of her fair hair as the fabric of her gown clung sheer against her bare flesh. She closed her eyes, leaning in further as her warm lips touched his cold mouth, a single kiss that was the still in the eye of the storm as around them sparks of light zipped about the museum and the breeze strengthened. Then it stopped, everything stopped and silence fell as she pulled back from him, looking down at the body in the glass case.
Then it happened:
As his lips parted and he drew a breath his hand closed on her arm, gripping her gently, his eyes opened and as she looked at him she knew she now believed in magic. He said nothing as he pulled her closer, claiming her mouth with a deep and lasting kiss that was warm, the final proof she needed that she had brought him back to life...
Then the dream ended sharply.
The alarm clock sounded and Cherry sat upright, gasping for air as the shock hit her that she had kissed a corpse – then as she took in the sight of her own bedroom and the alarm was still sounding and cutting through the last of her tiredness, she shut it off and sat there in silence as she shook off the last remainder of the dream.
“You didn't kiss a corpse...” she said under her breath, needing that verbal reminder as she got up and prepared to face the day – a day that would take her back to the museum and to a real encounter with the corpse of Drake Ambrose.
The dream had left her by the time she had caught the bus. Now real life was biting at her as cold as the snow. The world beyond the window was blanketed white save for the pathways and the gutters where dirty slush was turning to ice. Christmas was in the air, the mood was light, people were smiling and chatting and laughing. She didn't want to think what this Christmas would have been like if her and Drake had hit it off because nothing wiped away all possibilities like death - that was the full stop with no exception, it ended everything.
When she got off the bus and began the uphill walk in the snow to the museum, each step felt heavier and she wasn't sure if it was the weight of her heavily packed overnight bag or if it was the heaviness in her heart that felt like such a weight– if Drake had been laid to rest like any other person, returning here would not be so difficult. But he had wanted to be preserved behind glass, on display in his own museum – she would have to see him every single day, lifeless...
As she pressed the buzzer and waited on the steps of the museum, a strange sense of deja vu swept over her as she recalled the day she had met Drake. It made her smile to think of him, then once more reality bit as hard as the cold as the snow swirled in a flurry and her heart ached again.
Owen opened up the door and welcomed her inside. Today his clothing looked fresh with no creases and he wore a heavy winter coat too, she noticed he seemed more together, he wasn't shaking but his face was pale and he had a haunted look in his eyes that lingered on and she was sure it would be there for a very long time - years, perhaps.
“Would you like me to show you the flat upstairs?” he asked.
“Drake already showed me,” she replied, then on hearing his name she saw the pain reflected in his eyes had deepened.
“Sorry,” she added.
“Don't be, we can't not mention him...he's back, by the way... I had the cabinet placed in the second hall. It's quite dark in there, I moved some of the exhibits to other rooms – gave him a quiet corner on his own. I'll have the case moved here to the main entrance before we – I mean, I – reopen in the spring. Then he will have what he wanted, he will be right by the doors, almost as if he's guarding the place.”
She turned her head, looking past the main entrance to the archway that led to the darkened room with the wood panelled walls and the bare floor. The spotlights were still on in there and she could only see ahead down the length of the second room, but she knew he was in there and it felt odd to know that. It was something that would take some getting used to, for sure.
“If you need anything – I mean, if it's an emergency – my number is in the office,” Owen told her, “I'm leaving now – I've been ready to go for the past hour, I was just waiting for you to show up. I really do need to get to of here for a while, it's all been such a nightmare. I still keep hoping I'll wake up but then I remember he's gone and I have to get used to that.”
She nodded.
“That's understandable,” she replied, “And I won't call you unless it's an emergency.”
He zipped up his coat and reached for the door, then turned back again.
“By the way, Glen – the security guard – will be here from seven pm tonight. He's here every night, you can get to the area that leads to the parking bay by leaving through the second door in the office and going down the corridor. But I don't think you'll need to disturb him, he rarely comes into the actual museum. I'd better be off now. I hope you can enjoy your stay – if that's possible after what's happened.”
“I'll be fine,” she replied.
He nodded, passed her a large bunch of keys and then turned away, opened up the door and left the museum. There was a brief blast of cold air and then the door shut behind him, leaving a few stray flakes of snow to escape inside carried in on the cold air.
Suddenly Cherry was too aware of the silence in the place. There was a clock on the wall near the entrance and its ticking seemed louder as she looked about the museum and felt strangely alone - yet not quite alone...
She took off her coat and hat and hung them up with her scarf on a hook on the wall, then she locked the doors, set her bag down in the entrance and turned towards the archway at the end of the hall, where beyond it, Drake's body was preserved behind glass just as he had requested. She thought of her dream and shook her head, realising all that wishful thinking would mean nothing when she saw him again – he would be frozen still, lifeless and staring back at her from the display case, creepy and quite dead but at least he had his wish.
Sadness still weighted her heart as she walked towards the archway, beyond it that bare room with the spotlights looked dimly lit and knowing he was
in there and quite dead added to an element of real unease, it seemed that now the most unsettling exhibit in the place wouldn't be a waxwork or a collection of Victorian fakes – it would be the owner himself...
“Poor Drake,”she said and gave a sigh as she wished life could have turned out differently. He had been way too young to die so suddenly.
As Cherry reached the archway she stopped, without warning her guts had twisted and her throat had gone tight. The thought then crossed her mind that when Drake had decided to do this, he had not given a moments thought to how anyone who knew him or cared about him would have felt, seeing him preserved like that after his death...
She took a deep breath and went through the archway and into the dimly lit second area of the museum. Looking ahead, the cases were moved further up and some were absent, having been shifted to other rooms. There was a large space beside her and she glanced sideways without turning her head, to see it was sectioned off by a length of silken cord.
“That's where you are,” she said quietly, and slowly turned around.
She kept her gaze downward, following the length of the cord to the midway point, where lights from inside the case shone outward, beckoning her to look, then she raised her gaze to take in the sight before her :
The case was transparent. It was lit inside along the edges, the light shining out and from above, softly down on to the figure seated on a chair within. The chair looked grandly antique, its high back was solid wood and varnished and decorated with carvings. The seat and arm rests of the chair were made of padded red velvet. There was something palatial about it, as if this was the throne of the king of the museum... And Drake Ambrose looked the part, too. He sat there with his arms on the arm rests, his back was straight, one leg was bent straight and the other slightly extended, giving a slightly relaxed pose despite his frozen appearance. His face also looked relaxed, his eyes were open and looking towards the wall almost as if he was deep in thought. His hair had been groomed to perfection and his suit was almost identical to the one she had seen him wear when he was alive, but now he also wore a black tie and a diamond tie pin that glittered as the light caught on it. He didn't look dead. If she had walked into a room and seen him at a glance, she would have thought perhaps he had taken a seat to think deeply on something and stare off into space – but for the glass box around him, that was the only reminder that he was indeed preserved and in that box for purposes of display...