22
The house smelt vaguely of incense, a smell that grew stronger as Daniel stood in the sitting room and watched Lawson light a series of white candles, then draw the thick patterned curtains, making the walls shrink in the stuttering light.
‘Your talent,’ said Lawson, ‘can only be used with someone else, somebody who has their own talents too.’
‘What’s inside me?’ asked Daniel. ‘Where has it come from?’
‘It’s something you were born with, like me. My own capabilities began to surface in adolescence too.’ Lawson blew out the last match and tossed it into the empty fireplace. ‘It could be that the trauma of what’s recently happened to you acted as a trigger to release it. Whatever the reason for its appearance, you’re very lucky. Some people think we’re all born with abilities, which only a few of us are lucky enough to get the chance to use. Daniel, would you like me to show you your particular talent? Tell you more about what’s inside you?’
‘Yes.’
Lawson nodded and closed his eyes and began to breathe more deeply, making the little flames around them flutter. He pursed his lips as if he was about to whistle and then blew out a breath. All the candles went out together, plunging the room into darkness.
Daniel gasped as the dark crowded round him, pushing at him, trying to creep down his throat and into his ears.
‘I know how scared you were in the dark,’ whispered Lawson. ‘But there’s no need to be now. I’m here to help you. You’re quite safe here.’
A faint orange light spread slowly round the room as the wire filament in the naked bulb hanging above them began to warm. It was bright enough that Daniel could just see the shapes of the furniture and the dark squares of pictures in their frames on the walls.
Lawson was standing upright, his eyes like holes, until gradually the light grew stronger and pushed back the dark. He blinked and looked down at Daniel, his bony white fingers outstretched like a wizard about to cast a spell.
‘I’m a psychic, with just the barest of telekinetic powers too to make things happen.’ And he wafted a hand at the bulb and the still smoking candles. ‘My talents mainly give me the ability to see things other people can’t. It lights me up just like that light bulb when I hit the switch inside me. But if I’m the bulb, Daniel, then you’re the electric wire, the power that can make me burn brighter than I’d ever imagined. That’s what making the fit means: two people connecting and combining to do wonderful things. I’ve read about it, heard whispers, but I never thought I would meet someone like you who could make it happen. We need to find out more. Explore little by little what we can do together.’
Lawson’s face began to tense and Daniel immediately felt a sensation in his chest, like a butterfly trapped behind his ribs. It shifted for a moment and then settled, warming one small spot.
‘Can you feel what’s different?’ asked Lawson.
‘Yes.’
‘Now let me use your talent. Let me see what I can do with it. Don’t be afraid like last time in the hospital. Don’t panic and shut me out. You have to trust me. It’s up to you to make the fit happen.’
Lawson raised a hand and pointed at the light bulb, his hand shaking. Daniel felt the warmth growing gently in his chest and he told himself not to panic. Little by little, it grew stronger and then he gasped as the bulb began to rise, the white cord from which it was hanging bending to form a loop through which the light bulb itself passed, before dropping down and creating a simple knot in the cord. Still lit, the bulb swayed slightly, hanging a few centimetres higher than before, sending the dark corners of the room bobbing up and down.
Lawson lowered his hand. He was breathing heavily and stumbled a few steps back into the arm of the sofa behind him and perched there, recovering, as if having expended a great amount of effort.
Daniel felt his jaw and throat relax, and he began to breathe more deeply too. His mind was sharp and bright, like some dial had been turned up, sensing the secret hollow in his chest that Lawson had filled with a golden heat. But it was growing cold already. He put a hand against his ribs to try and make a difference, but the warmth from his palm only sat on the surface of his chest, the space inside him somewhere he could not touch.
But somehow Lawson had reached it.
‘You see?’ said Lawson, pointing at the bulb, his breathing more normal again. ‘You see what we can do together? How we can make the fit? Making an object move without touching it is something I’ve always struggled to do. And now I’ve done it easily because you let me. The fit might allow us to do anything we want the more we explore it.’
‘Can we help my dad like you said?’ asked Daniel. ‘Could we really do that too?’
‘I’d like to think so, Daniel. I really would. If we can make a good fit then we might well be able to do anything we want.’
‘I want to try again. I want to see what else we can do.’
‘Give me a moment,’ said Lawson, nodding up at the bulb. ‘What we just did took something out of me.’ He wiped his glistening brow and smoothed back his peppery hair, patting its damp strands down. There were dark half-moons under the arms of his bright blue shirt.
As Lawson rested, Daniel blinked at the bulb, staining his eyes with orange spots. ‘Do you really think it was a miracle I was saved?’ he asked.
‘I know what I’d like to believe. But what feels right to you? What makes the most sense?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Daniel. ‘It’s difficult to remember everything exactly the way it happened. I was very cold. I wasn’t thinking straight. I don’t know if it was luck I got out or not.’
Lawson nodded and wiped his brow. ‘Perhaps you’ll work out what to believe when we find out more about the fit and what we can do, whether we can really help your father. It might help you to decide if you were saved in order to get your life back to how it was before.’
‘But why would someone save me to do that?’
‘Why wouldn’t they? Isn’t it what you want? To have your father back?’
Daniel nodded. ‘Yes, more than anything. Do you feel ready to try again and see what else we can do?’
Lawson cleared his throat. His face looked so white it was almost grey.
‘I think I could do with a glass of water first,’ he said. But before he could stand up they both heard a loud knocking on the front door and then it was opened with such great force it was banging against the wall. A voice shouted into the house.
‘Lawson! Where are you?’
Lawson tottered to his feet as a huge, bald man wearing a tight-fitting blue suit appeared in the doorway.
He peered at them in the low orange light from the bulb, blinking, as laughter suddenly erupted behind him out of sight in the hallway. It was the sort you might hear late at night in the street and not want to glance up in case you caught the wrong person’s eye.
The bald man beamed, pointed a finger at Daniel. ‘You’re that boy, the one who came out of the ground, the one in the papers and on the news.’ He rubbed his big hands together and took a deep breath of the incense-flavoured air, observing the curtains were drawn. ‘What’s going on here, Lawson? What magic are you dabbling in now? Is it something to help with finding that antique flask I want, the one that’s going to change my life forever?’
Lawson just stood there, his pale face glistening, as if struggling to work out what was happening and why.
‘COME ON, LAWSON!’ shouted the bald man, spit flying like sparks off his lips. ‘I haven’t got all day.’ He peered at him as though trying to spot him through a fog. ‘What’s wrong with you?’
Lawson seemed to think about speaking and then he turned quickly and picked up the metal bin near him just in time before throwing up into the white plastic liner.
The bald man wrinkled his nose as two other large men edged their way into the living room, all three of them watching Lawson as he set the bin outside in the hallway.
‘I hope it’s not catching,’ said the bald man,
making the other two laugh. He plucked the immaculate white handkerchief from the top pocket of his jacket and threw it at Lawson.
‘I’m not myself,’ Lawson managed to say, after wiping his mouth. ‘And the boy was actually just leaving.’
The bald man smiled. Put his arm round Daniel’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze. ‘No he wasn’t.’ He stooped like a bear to look into Daniel’s eyes. ‘I’m Mason. There’s no need to be nervous. There’s no sinkhole to fall into here. This is my house. I say what happens here and what doesn’t, including Lawson paying me rent and doing what I say.’
He grinned and waved a big hand at the two suited men sitting themselves down on the sofa. ‘These are my acquaintances, Frank and Jiff. Useless, both of them. Don’t do anything without my say-so either. No brains, you see.’ When he laughed, the two men grunted a laugh too. The one called Frank had a cleft lip, with a raggedy scar like a zipper up to the bottom of his nose.
‘What are you gawping at?’ muttered Frank, and Daniel looked down at the floor, his heart thumping.
Mason’s black patent shoes shone like bricks of wet coal.
‘So then,’ he said. ‘Tell me what’s going on here. What’s got Lawson so peaky and out of sorts?’
‘I’m fine now,’ said Lawson and tried handing the handkerchief back. But Mason just wrinkled his nose and shook his head.
‘I think you’d best be keeping that, don’t you?’
When Daniel looked at Lawson, wondering what to say, Mason steered him back round. ‘Just keep your eyes on me,’ said Mason quietly. ‘So you can tell me what I want to know.’
Mason’s giant hands cupped Daniel’s shoulders like tiger’s paws.
‘It’s the fit,’ whispered Daniel.
‘The what?’
‘The fit.’
Mason grinned. ‘And what’s that then? What’s the fit?’ he asked, clamping his hands even tighter round Daniel’s shoulders.
23
Mason clapped his hands like a giant toddler too excited to speak until he had managed to calm down.
‘Daniel, this all sounds perfect,’ he said. ‘You’re a godsend.’ He winked at the boy and then produced a silver signet ring from his jacket pocket and held it up in the orange light oozing out of the naked bulb. ‘I drop by so Lawson can solve a little problem of mine, because he’s my go-to guy for anything I can’t sort out, and discover you’re here too. Daniel! The . . . the . . .’ He wafted a hand in front of him as if trying to catch the right words eluding him. ‘The . . . “magic boy” . . . who can help Lawson do even more wondrous things than he ever could before.’
Mason slapped his thigh so hard that Daniel flinched. ‘This is all meant to be. This is . . .’ he drummed a big finger against his lips, ‘. . . fate.’ He beamed and shook his head. ‘You have to marvel at the way the world works, don’t you? About how things always pan out the way you need them to.’ He held out the ring to Lawson. ‘I want to see you two at work solving this problem of mine. I’m fascinated to see what you and the boy can do with this connection of yours. This . . . this . . .’
‘. . . fit,’ finished Lawson.
‘Precisely. So tell me what you can about the man who owned this ring for starters, Lawson. Think of it as a test for you both. I want to know if this fit can help you find the flask you know I’m so desperate to have. Tracking it down is your top priority after all, and you’ve been working on it for weeks.’
But Lawson shook his head. ‘Our last effort took a lot out of me. I don’t know how hard we can push making the fit for now. About what might happen if we do.’
But Mason didn’t seem to hear. He just grabbed Lawson’s wrist, popping the fingers open, and put the silver ring in his palm, then perched himself on the seat of the armchair and took out a small black notebook and a pen.
‘Lawson, you work for me, remember? Or would you like me to remind you some other way? I could ask the lads to help with that,’ he said, jolting a thumb towards Frank and Jiff.
Lawson stood staring at Mason for a moment and closed his fist round the ring and shook his head. ‘We’ll see what we can do.’
‘He’s gonna nick that ring, boss,’ giggled Frank, licking the scar above his lip.
‘Yeah, it’ll vanish right in front of our eyes,’ said Jiff, who shifted about to get comfortable on the sofa. Daniel noticed that the man had a hunched back, the top portion of his spine humped like something had been stuffed beneath his jacket.
Mason raised a hand and the two men stopped laughing and the room filled with quiet. The only sound was the hum of the naked bulb above them.
Daniel looked at the floor when Mason stared at him, unsure what was going to happen or what he should do. And then he felt that warm golden sensation flicker up in his chest again.
When he looked up at Lawson, the man’s white face was already strained, the little tendons standing out in his neck like lengths of cord pulled tight. Lawson nodded and managed to smile. ‘Just focus on me, Daniel. Don’t be scared. Let’s just do what we did last time and see if I can connect with you even better than before.’
He closed his eyes. He clenched his fist harder round the ring, the knuckles shining whiter. Mutterings started rolling off his lips in whispers that could barely be heard.
Mason leant forward as if trying to listen, flipping open his notebook and readying his pen. Frank and Jiff were watching intently too.
When Lawson’s voice began to rise a little louder, Daniel felt the sensation in his chest increase. Like a hummingbird flitting, caged behind his ribs. The golden shimmer inside him grew brighter and warmer, filling out the secret space even more than it had done before.
Images wafted at the corners of his eyes, drifting round the dull-lit room, vanishing if he looked too closely at them.
The body of a man, lit by a street light . . .
. . . lying in a pool of blood in a quiet road bordered by shops shuttered up for the night . . .
. . . the silver signet ring on his little finger.
Silver boot tips beside the dead man’s head and then somebody’s hand reaching down, the fingers hooking round the handle of a leather briefcase lying in the road.
A white car disappearing down the street into the dark.
He could hear Lawson describing these things as if he was seeing them too behind his lidded eyes. Lawson told Mason it was his money in the briefcase. That it had been taken from the man who had been wearing the silver signet ring after he had been knocked down by a white car. Mason was nodding as he listened, jotting down details in his notebook, his tongue darting out between his lips as he concentrated on what Lawson was telling him.
‘Who took it, Lawson?’ he asked. ‘Who took my briefcase full of money?’ Lawson’s face twitched harder, the muscles dancing in his cheeks, his lips bleaching as he tried to see more. ‘Who was it, Lawson?’ growled Mason, his pen poised. ‘Tell me the number plate of this white car at least. Something I can use.’
As Lawson’s voice grew louder and more garbled, repeating the things he had already said, Daniel felt the wonderful warmth in his chest start to burn and become painful. It felt like the flame from a match was being held against his skin. As Lawson’s voice became more frantic, the pain worsened.
‘Stop,’ said Daniel. ‘Stop. Something’s not right.’ He wasn’t sure if he had said that loud enough. Or said it at all. His mouth felt like it was turned inside out. ‘Something’s wrong,’ he said again, but all he heard was a mumble in his throat.
‘What’s that, boy?’ asked Mason. ‘What did you say?’
But Daniel ignored him, focusing on Lawson instead, who was starting to shake, one of his eyes rolling up white into his head, like a pebble had been placed in the socket.
‘Let go,’ said Daniel with all the strength he could muster in his voice, the pain in his chest increasing as if someone was turning up a dial. ‘This feels as far as we can go.’
Lawson wiped his nose with the back of his hand and ther
e was a tiny stripe of blood across it, wet like paint. ‘Don’t panic, Daniel,’ he said. ‘You need to keep your heart open. We need to see how much of a fit we can really make.’
‘Attaboy, Lawson,’ said Mason. ‘Keep working it. Tell me who stole my money.’
‘But something’s not right,’ replied Daniel, shaking his head. ‘It’s painful. It’s not like it was before.’
‘Don’t shut me out,’ shouted Lawson, his face waxing and waning, shining with sweat. ‘Don’t you want to know what we can really do? If we can help your father?’
There was a painful knocking in Daniel’s forehead now. Each time he blinked, he saw Lawson’s face inside him and it felt as though the man was trying to take over his body with his very being, reaching deep down into him. He could sense how scared Lawson was of Mason. How desperate he was to find out what the big, bald man wanted to know.
But, as the burning sensation in Daniel’s chest became more intense, he gritted his teeth and tried to ride it out because he wanted to know what the fit could really do too, whether it might be powerful enough to bring his father back.
‘I won’t shut you out,’ he gasped. ‘I want to know. I want to see what we can do.’
Mason whooped. He muttered and swore and wiped his brow with the back of a meaty hand.
Daniel heard a strange sound starting up inside him, a clicking, like someone flicking a light switch on and off. Slow and regular at first, then steadily becoming faster and faster, until it was just a constant buzzy sound, warbling inside him. It pounded his ears like an alarm. When it stopped suddenly, without warning, Daniel felt a jolt, as if a wire had been cut, and the pain in his chest vanished immediately too, leaving just a hole again, filled with cold, gleaming dark.
Everyone in the room saw Lawson’s fist explode like a grenade.
The stump of his wrist was left raw and red and white. Like something still oozing blood on a butcher’s slab. The hand itself was nothing but mess on the walls and the ceiling.
All Sorts of Possible Page 5