Jack nodded and blew his nose. “Shall we finish what we started with the sapphires?”
“Doubt Mrs Rosemount will let us in,” Ally said.
“Who’s she?” Jack asked. “Let us in where?”
“The grumpy old woman guarding the museum,” I explained.
Jack frowned in obvious confusion but I didn’t bother explaining further. He’d find out soon enough what I meant.
I must have looked weird as I walked with an arm linked through Jack’s, because so many people smiled at us. Maybe because the sun was shining again or maybe it looked as though I was taking my grandpa for a walk. I wondered if they’d be smiling if I told them Jack was not only my grandad’s cousin but also my cousin and my sixteen-year-old best friend. My heart wrenched knowing that I could never be with Zac in the way I’d secretly dreamed, and oh, his poor parents, what they must be going through.
Ally kept her distance a pace or two behind us but I could still probe her thoughts. She was blaming me for making her go back and I deserved it. She caught up when we reached the museum and we hesitated in the open doorway.
“I’ll wait up there,” Jack said, pointing at the high street. He was grinning as he hurried away.
I frowned after him, puzzled.
“Probably doesn’t want to annoy grumpy,” Ally said, jerking her head at the museum.
“Good point,” I sighed. “So how can I distract her this time so I can get in?” But as I said the words, Mrs Rosemount beckoned us in.
“Don’t be shy, girls,” she called with a smile. “Come on in.”
I stepped nervously inside. Perhaps she didn’t recognise us. Two strides and I could reach the walking stick, probably quicker than her. Mrs Rosemount peered at us above her glasses. The scarf on the knitting needles was a least a half metre longer. “Well, if it’s not those lovely grandchildren of dear old Freddie Stewart. Good to see you again.”
I cast Ally a sideways glance and her shoulders lifted in a shrug.
“Can we see Worthingdale’s statue?”
“Statue?” she said quizzically. “But it’s by the church where it’s always been!”
“But they dismantled…”
“Ah, tis true,” she cut me off, “twas almost as if someone knew the abbey would be hit that very same night they took the statue away…” She broke off, shaking her head and staring at her knitting. I was surprised to see my arms were covered in goosebumps. “Anyhow,” she suddenly looked right at us, “soon as the church was rebuilt, they put the statue back. I mean, why hide such a splendid piece of memorabilia. The eyes alone are worth exhibiting!”
I turned quickly to leave, wanting to believe her but barely daring to. And if the fakes had duped people, it left me with another problem. “The earrings worked,” I whispered to Jack outside. “But because of that, they rebuilt the statue at the church and it means we have to switch them in full view of everyone.”
Jack’s grin widened and puzzled me even more.
“You already knew that, didn’t you?” Ally laughed and punched his arm.
“But how,” I protested. “You only just came back.”
“That may be so,” he held his hands up in mock surrender, chuckling, “but I’m not exactly the teenager I was back in the war, eh?”
“Huh? Oh.”
Jack squeezed my shoulder reassuringly, but it still baffled me how much things had changed because of our actions in the past.
“And we’ll think of a way to switch the eyes,” Jack said.
But none of us had come up with a plan by the time we reached the church, and the warm day, the fragrance of roses and newly cut grass, the sound of twittering birds and warbling of an ice-cream van seemed to have lured half of Trentham Weald out.
“Got it!” Ally said. “What if I pretend to faint and Jack pretends to help me. People are so nosy they’ll be crowding around me to see what’s going on and while they are,” she nodded at me, “you can climb the statue.”
“Sounds like a plan!” I agreed.
As we approached the rear of the church my steps slowed. The circle of benches was still there and the statue was against the wall, but knowing how the church had once spilled its heart to the world made it less imposing now and seemed to steal some of its mystery.
I saw now that the blocks forming the rear wall were smooth in comparison to the roughly axed stones of the front tower. Lord Worthingdale stood in a purpose-built niche on the southwest buttress. A carved archway and two pillars framed the statue, which stood proudly to the fore and cast deep shadows behind it.
The statue’s head towered above me, its large rectangular base looked easy enough to mount, but the body itself had no horizontal ledges until the shoulders; there weren’t even any chipped bits from the crude dismantling during the war. I peered behind it, searching for any clues as to how they reassembled it or anywhere that would help me climb. But it was as if the whole statue had been rendered in a fresh outer skin.
The stone cloak had numerous folds and I pondered their usefulness as footholds. If nothing else, I could use them as support and perhaps use the wall behind it to straddle myself up. At least I would be partially concealed from the crowds and from curious stares from children whose parents might be distracted by Ally’s dramatics.
A wave of guilt engulfed me as I stepped in front again to suss out how the eyes were fixed in. I hated the person I was back then. If I’d never stolen the jewels, Jack wouldn’t have died, which meant Zac would have been born with another soul and his parents wouldn’t be grieving right now.
“You right?” Jack asked quietly.
“S’pose.” I sighed. “But I could use another trip back to the past.”
“We all make mistakes, Katie.” He squeezed my shoulder. “But it’s learning from those mistakes and letting them go which allows us to move forwards.”
My shoulder lightened when he pulled his arm away to offer me his key to prise the fake eyes out, and a pack of chewy to stick the sapphires in place. I took two pieces then ducked to the rear of the statue and gave Ally the thumbs up. She wandered slowly to the other side of the footpath towards the cemetery, Jack close to her side. Finally, she stopped on a patch of overgrown grass, flicked her hand to her forehead, crumpled her knees and dropped to the ground.
Jack pretended he hadn’t noticed, then hesitated and turned back. People rushed to look. One person offered Ally a bottle of water, another spoke earnestly to Jack, the rest just watched.
I broke my gaze away and clambered awkwardly up the base behind the statue by ramming my left foot against the wall and my right on the statue. Both seemed solid and I hesitantly grasped the folds on the cloak and took a small, tentative step up.
I clawed the smooth wall, wishing the rear of the Abbey was still constructed of the rough stones, and slowly, slowly, inch by inch, picked my way up to Worthingdale’s shoulders. I cautiously released my pressure on the wall to swing to my right and knelt, ouch, on the hard stone, feeling as though my scab had broken.
No one seemed interested in the statue when I peered around the head and fumbled for the sun-warmed eyes.
I jabbed the key under the lower edge.
Crack!
I stiffened but everyone was still fixated on Ally. Jack glanced sideways and upwards, saw me, quickly turned back. My heart thundered as I leaned around to face Lord Worthingdale. The ground swayed way below, my skin clammy, mouth dry. I blinked hard. I could do this. I had to do this.
My hands shook as I prised out first one eye, then the other, and dropped them in my pocket.
I rolled each piece of gum between my fingers to form a squashed oval, pressed a jewel on each and pushed them, hard, into the sockets. I hugged the head, wishing I was still in 1944 but I knew I had to face the consequences of my actions and finally shimmied down the statue’s back.
“What do you think you’re doing?” A scarlet-faced old man demanded angrily as I dropped to the ground.
“Er, um…”
My eyes flitted from him, to the statue, and beyond him to Jack and Ally. They were walking towards me and Jack was supporting Ally as if she were still a little faint.
“Hey, Katie!” he called. “D’ya manage to get the etching you wanted?” He raised his hands and mimed rubbing something.
“Oh, er, no,” I said. “Couldn’t reach. Was going to climb up there, but you know.” I shrugged. “Didn’t think I should.”
The old man squinted, nodded and tottered away.
“Thanks, Jack,” I said.
“How’d it go?” Ally asked.
I fumbled for the earrings and reconnected the clasps.
“You know, no one even had a clue that they were fakes,” Jack said.
“For real?” I asked.
“Why would they?” He shrugged. “As far as they knew, the eyes just got damaged during the move and the stones slipped out. It’s not like they’d suspect someone came from the future to replace them, eh?”
I forced a smile
“So, now what do we do?” Ally asked.
“Actually, I’d like to tidy up the ‘grave’.” I made inverted commas with my fingers, knowing that the headstone had no body beneath it.
We crossed the path to the cemetery and I led Jack to his fake grave. The headstone, still tangled and overgrown, nestled amongst the other neat graves. I stooped to grasp a handful of tall weeds, but faltered at the inscribed words. I hadn’t even considered that they mightn’t be the same as before.
R.I.P
KATHERINE NANCY ROSE STEWART
22ND AUGUST 1930–22ND AUGUST 1944
MAY YOU ENJOY YOUR BIRTHDAY
IN HEAVEN FOREVER.
Jack squeezed my shoulder, stepped on the dirty concrete before the headstone and tore a clump of weeds away. I hugged myself as involuntary shivers convulsed through me.
“At least I got to have a proper burial,” I sighed remorsefully. “But there’s one thing I’d like to do for her, for me, not that she deserves it, the rotten thief.”
Both Ally and Jack looked at me, waiting.
“An egg.” I smiled “I’d like to get an egg to make up for the birthday treat she never got to have.”
Guitar music grew steadily louder as we ambled to the high street. The girl playing was just down from the supermarket by a circle of benches and I listened in awe as she perfectly strummed Smoke on the Water. She couldn’t be much older than eleven or twelve, in her Chelsea FC supporters’ gear, yet people hurried past, pretending she wasn’t there.
Jack and Ally hesitated in the supermarket doorway, waiting for me.
“You coming in?” Jack asked.
“Nah, might wait here.”
I wandered to the benches and sat down. “Sorry, got no money.” I pulled my pockets out to show her.
“Doesn’t matter.” She grinned, finishing the song. “Just nice to have an audience that doesn’t run away.”
“You’re good,” I said enviously.
“Thanks!”
“You should put your cap down.” I laid the earrings on the ground in front of her. “People might give you money then.”
“Thanks.” She nodded at the jewellery. “But there’s no need.”
“You deserve something.” I smiled. “Hey, do you know this?” I hummed Freddie’s tune.
The girl shook her head. “I only know one tune,” she confessed, starting it again. “My cousin taught me it.”
“Katie?”
I glanced around when Jack called from the supermarket, holding up a carton of eggs.
I smiled at the busker girl. “See you again?”
She smiled shyly and nodded.
“Hope these are okay,” Jack said when I reached him. He handed me half a dozen free-range eggs.
I glanced back to wave to the guitarist, but she had disappeared.
To extend the time away from the flat, we took the long route along the river and through the rose garden by the church, the brilliant blooms so bursting with perfume that I couldn’t resist.
“Ouch!” I sucked the pinprick of blood seeping from my finger.
“You know that’s why they’re prickly,” Jack said, grinning. “To stop people like you pinching them.”
“There aren’t many people like me though, are there?” I handed him the eggs back and gingerly snapped a thorny stem from the bush, “I mean, who else can put their favourite roses on their own grave?”
“You know how weird that sounds,” Ally said, grimacing.
“As weird as it is?” I guessed.
Ally shuddered and hurried ahead of us.
I drew a deep breath of fragrant perfume and plucked one last deep burgundy rose from the bush.
“Think she’ll be alright?” Jack asked.
“Hope so.” I carefully snapped the thorns off sideways with my thumb until I had a smooth handhold on each stem then took the egg carton back off Jack with my free hand. “It was a big deal for her to even admit any of it was really happening to me, so for her to actually get involved and, well…” I eyed him sadly. Goodness knows how he felt knowing what happened to Zac.
“What happened to Zac might just be coincidence,” Jack mused.
I stared at him, gobsmacked. He could read my thoughts?
“How so?” I asked doubtfully.
“Face it, if I didn’t free my soul back in the war how could Zac have been born with it?”
“You lost me.”
“Well, the fact that he died at sixteen means he had been born. And if I never died…”
“But you did die.” I stopped walking at the end of the rose garden. “It was only because Ally went back to 1944 to save you that that changed.”
Jack faced me and virtually blocked the pathway. “Listen to what you’re saying though. She went back to 1944, back to before Zac was born, and saved me. But Zac still got born, Katie. So he must have been born with a different soul.”
I turned away unable to face him else my disbelief at his words would show.
“It was just coincidence.” Jack grabbed my arm. “That’s all. A rotten, horrible accidental coincidence.”
“Maybe.” I forced my lips into a smile. He needed it to be true for his own conscience and Ally needed to believe she wasn’t responsible for my best friend’s death, but my heart still felt heavy. “Wanna make a bet?” I asked, trying to lighten the tension.
Jack raised his eyebrows in question and stepped back beside me.
“I get the feeling that once Ally’s over the shock of all this, that she’ll be just like Dad and completely deny ghosts ever exist.” I lowered my voice as we drew closer to Ally and the grave. “In fact, I reckon she’ll end up denying any of this ever happened.”
“How can she do that after all she’s been through and, well,” Jack sighed and ran his hands through the air around his body, “the fact that I’m even here.”
I stared at Ally’s back as she crouched by the headstone, guilty for all I’d put her through. She twisted to face us when she heard us approach and slowly stood, holding her hand out to me.
Rose petals scattered and eggs shattered to the ground. I staggered forward in shock.
“W-where’d you get those, Ally?” I stammered.
“They were just here, on Kathy’s grave.” Ally shrugged. “Lucky I found them, eh?”
Shivers ran up and down my spine as she pressed the earrings into my thorn-prickled hand. How the hell had the guitar girl known where to leave the earrings so I’d find them? Or was it just the same fate that had led us to find them at the market in the first place?
I gazed at the headstone with remorse. I’d been given my second chance and had failed to use it but maybe that was a good thing. Changing things obviously had repercussions in the future so maybe it had all just been so I could face up to my darker side, and at least the family name was clear – from the past at least. I smiled wryly at the velvety rose petals I’d taken. From now on I really was determined never to steal again.
“W
hat you looking at, Katie?” Jack made me jump.
“Huh, oh, nothing.”
I rammed the blue earrings into my pocket and ran my fingers over the inscription on my headstone, but there was no energy drawing me to it.
“Hey, look at that!” Jack said, nodding at the ground.
I stepped back and watched with relief, my vague double outline sharpening into one.
“Happy belated birthday, Kathy.” I crouched, straightened the scattered roses and made a petal bed for the one whole egg that remained.
“How’s it feel knowing you’ve laid your shadow to rest?” Jack rested his hand on my shoulder.
“Good.” I turned to him, smiling. “Really good.”
Kathy Stewart was in the past where she belonged, leaving a brand new future free for me.
I was ready for something new.
praise for phoenix
I love the way the author thinks outside the square, and the way all the threads are pulled together. Very unusual and I can see it being a hit. Kim Rackham
Ohhh, I can’t believe it… the book’s finished and I want to keep reading! I loved it!!!! The character descriptions, the places – I felt like I was in England. I just felt like I was there, involved in their lives. The twists and turns, it was so exciting, I even had a couple of tears. Susan Griffiths
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