by Pat Spence
“No,” protested Theo, “it’s got nothing to do with money. I would do anything for you, Emily, anything within my power. Surely you know that?”
“I thought I could count on you, Theo.”
“You can, Emily, just not for this. I’m sorry.”
“So am I, Theo. Well, at least I know where your loyalties lie. And they’re not with me.”
“Emily, it’s not like that,” he started to say, but I interrupted him.
“I’d like to say it’s been nice knowing you, Theo, but I can’t. Goodbye.”
Tears choked my voice and I hung up, throwing the phone onto the bed. My hands went to the silver chain hanging round my neck and, pulling it sharply, I attempted to hurl it across the room. But it wouldn’t break no matter how hard I pulled, and when I tried to find the fastener, it wasn’t there. It was just one continuous chain. And now I had a sore neck where it had cut into me.
I lay on the bed and sobbed. Only a few weeks ago I had a normal life, with good friends and everything ahead of me. Now, my life was in danger from all kinds of enemies, supernatural and otherwise, I’d met a boy who wasn’t human, I had to decide whether I wanted eternal youth or not, and if I did I might die in the process. On top of that, my Granddad was ill in hospital, I’d alienated myself from my friends and I’d just split up from my boyfriend. Could things really get any worse?
Hearing me sobbing, my mother quietly opened the door and came in to sit by me. She gently stroked my hair, like she did when I was little. I put my arms out and pulled her close to me.
“Oh mum,” I sobbed, “why is life so difficult? Why can’t it all stay simple and easy?”
“Because life isn’t simple and easy,” she said, holding me tight. “You’re growing up and finding out how painful it can be. When you’re a child, you’re sheltered from all this, but I can’t protect you forever.”
I buried my head into her shoulder and said through my tears, “I’ve just split up with Theo.”
“Oh, Emily, I’m sorry. He seemed so nice. Do you want to talk about it?”
Where would I start? That my beautiful ex-boyfriend was actually thousands of years old, that he bathed in the light of a powerful blue crystal to stay young forever, that he’d placed me in mortal danger and even as I spoke strange creatures could be outside our house planning my demise. How could I tell my mum any of that? It was ridiculous beyond belief and so I just said ‘no’ and cried some more.
“You’re worried about Granddad, as well, aren’t you?” asked my mum, gently.
How could I say that I’d split up with Theo because he wouldn’t use his super powers to save Granddad? It was all too complicated.
“Is Granddad going to die?” I asked my mum tearfully.
“He’s very poorly,” said my mum, “and he’s not going to get better, you have to understand that. Until we talk to the consultant I don’t know what the prognosis is. It’s going to be tough, Emily, but we have to be strong. For his sake.”
And that only made me cry all the harder. Because I had a solution within my grasp and I couldn’t use it.
The next morning, we went back to the hospital. Granddad was sitting up in bed and had eaten breakfast. He’d had a good night and was on antibiotics. He still had on the oxygen mask, but seemed much brighter.
“Hi Granddad,” I said, kissing his forehead. “You gave us all a scare last night.”
“I told you, Emily,” he said with a smile, “I’m made of strong stuff. Tough as old boots me. I’ll go on forever.”
But it was obvious his breathing was unnaturally shallow and fast, and when we saw the consultant, he spelled it out for us. The prognosis wasn’t good. My Granddad couldn’t go on for much longer. In the consultant’s words, he could go out like a light bulb at any time. There would come a point when his lungs wouldn’t take in enough oxygen and he would quickly lose consciousness. At that point, there wasn’t much anybody could do.
“But some light bulbs go on for years,” I pointed out hopefully.
“Not this one, I’m afraid,” he said, which was when I knew it wouldn’t be long.
I left my mum sitting with Granddad and on the pretext of finding a drinks machine, went for a walk in the hospital grounds. They weren’t particularly pretty, just a few sparse areas of grass and some planted beds here and there, in between the car parks, with the odd tree dotted around. But at least I could get some fresh air and try to come to terms with the car crash my life had become.
I found a seat overlooking a small courtyard and sat contemplating the world. I hated Theo with a vengeance and was glad I’d lost my cell phone. At least he couldn’t contact me and I couldn’t see if he was trying to. Why wouldn’t he help? He knew how much this meant to me. He had the means. He had the power. He just didn’t have the inclination. He wanted me but he didn’t want my Granddad. Well, I was clear about one thing. I didn’t want him. Or his strange world. Or eternal youth. I just wanted plain, simple normality back in my life. And what was that story about The Lunari? Surely by now they would have found my phone, discovered the evidence against me and closed in for the kill. That is, if Theo could be believed. I seriously doubted there was any truth to his stories. He was probably the ultimate fantasist and I’d been the gullible fool that just happened to come along. Proof of that was the fact I was still alive. I hadn’t seen a single Lunari, Reptilia or any other creature he’d said was stalking me.
I’d had enough of fantasy. Stark, cold reality was staring me in the face in the form of my Granddad’s illness, and that was all I was capable of focusing on. I went back in and sat with Granddad for a while and I couldn’t help it, I had to ask.
“Gramps, if a magical power existed to make you well, but you had to stay this age for ever, would you use it?”
“Where did that come from?” he asked. “Have you been watching too many science fiction films?”
“No,” I laughed, “I just wondered, that’s all.”
He thought for a moment before speaking. “Emily, I’ve had a good life and a long life, and as much as I don’t want to leave you and your mum, I don’t want to go on forever. Can you imagine being stuck in this old body for eternity? Why would I want that? It would be purgatory. There’s a natural order, a time for birth and a time for death. When my time comes, I will accept it with grace. You know why? Because I’m going to see your grandma again. I want you to remember that. Will you do that?”
I stared at him with tears running down my cheeks.
“I’ll try, Gramps, but you always said ‘when you’re dead, you’re dead’. I thought you didn’t believe in an after-life.”
“Truth is, Emily, I don’t know. I only know I’m coming to the end of my allotted time, and I feel very strongly your Grandma calling for me. That’s all I can tell you.” He smiled at me. “I’m not frightened. This is how things are meant to be. The natural order. I want you to look after your mum for me, make sure she’s all right. And Emily?”
“Yes, Granddad.”
“I like Theo. You go together well.”
“Oh Gramps,” I sobbed, my voice choking, my cheeks wet with tears. “Don’t go, please don’t go. Don’t leave me.”
Later that evening, my Granddad died. The infection had taken too strong a hold and he couldn’t fight it. He went out like a light. No struggle, no breathlessness, no pain. One minute he was talking to us, for a second he seemed to have difficulty catching his breath and then he slumped forward unconscious. They tried long and hard to resuscitate him but to no avail. He’d gone.
The next few days were spent sorting out details. I had no idea there were so many things to do when someone died. We had to get the death certificate from the registry office, tell friends and relatives, notify banks and building societies, talk to the tax office, appoint a solicitor and, of course, arrange a funeral. Theo called the house a couple of times and spoke to my mum, but I refused to talk to him. He knew now that my Granddad had died and I hoped he was feeling gui
lty. I still felt he should have interceded.
On the day of the funeral, a cold wind blew and small white clouds scuttled across the sky. The sun shone, but the easterly wind was strong and my lasting impression, once we’d endured the church service, was of a cold, bright graveyard and a small crowd of people standing round the grave side, holding their coats around them, looking pinched and frozen.
I watched the pallbearers carry Granddad’s coffin out of the church, the wind tugging at their black suits. A large hole had already been dug in the ground and I watched as the coffin was lowered slowly down. I’d thought the words ‘ashes to ashes’ and ‘dust to dust’ were only used in films, but the Father James spoke them, picking up some earth and letting it fall through his fingers onto the coffin.
I threw a red rose in after it.
There weren’t many mourners, just my mum and me, a few relatives that I didn’t see very often, some neighbours and others from the village that Granddad had known. It was a small, low-key affair, which is just what he would have wanted. A big, grand affair would have been wrong. My Granddad had been a quiet, private person, with a small circle of friends, and I was glad his funeral reflected that. We’d played jazz music in the church, Stranger on the Shore by Acker Bilk, and I could still hear the beautiful, lilting melody in my head. The cold weather and dazzling sun suited my mood perfectly, a biting reminder of the harshness of reality. This was what happened. You were born, you aged and you died. It was the natural order and there was no other way. I’d been a fool to think otherwise and let my head be turned, albeit momentarily, by fantasist nonsense.
After I’d thrown my rose onto the coffin and the vicar had finished his words, I looked over to the far side of the churchyard, where the pathway led to Hartswell Hall, remembering my flight of the other night. How ridiculous it all seemed now. How juvenile and meaningless. I felt I’d aged a million years in the last few days. I’d looked through the doorway of death and seen the truth for myself. And the truth was not a blue crystal, eternal youth or a long lost love, it was an open grave in a cold, windswept graveyard, where decaying flowers marked the passing of others who had gone before.
My eyes scanned the trees and the pathway beneath, the wind teasing the branches pale green with new growth, and then I saw him. I saw Theo standing on the newly cleared pathway, watching me closely. For a second our eyes met and such a yearning passed through my body, I felt as if I’d been riven apart. I hadn’t thought the pain could get any worse, but I was wrong. It hit me afresh. As I looked at his beautiful face, with his clear blue eyes and translucent skin, utter desolation and emptiness struck me with the force of cold concrete. If I’d experienced love just a few days earlier, now I felt jagged, twisted agony tearing me apart.
I turned away, unable to look at him any longer, and slowly walked back down the ancient church pathway to the Lych Gate, tears in my eyes and the words of John Donne forming in my mind:
“He ruin’d mee, and I am re-begot of absence, darkness, death; things
which are not.”
Never had I felt more alone or unhappy.
26. Reconciliation
The next day I decided I might as well go to college as stay at home. It all seemed pretty meaningless, but I needed to see my friends. I’d hardly been out since my Granddad died, there’d been so much to do and I hadn’t felt up to it. I’d sat in my room night after night, crying and listening to Lenka singing ‘Like a Song’, until I had no more tears left. Granddad was gone and I couldn’t bring him back. Theo had broken my heart and filled my head with mumbo jumbo. What I really needed was to see Tash and Seth, to laugh and joke with them, talk about last night’s TV programmes, compare assignments, hang out in the café and do all the stuff we always used to do.
I took my new Hollister sweatshirt, skinny jeans and wedge boots out of the wardrobe, feeling strangely comforted by the routine and safety they represented.
I didn’t want to make adult decisions, I just wanted to focus on the trivial side of life: what outfit to wear, which eye-shadow to choose, latest music, designer labels, fad diets, college gossip, all the commonplace strands that held my life together. Once I was back at college, others could take responsibility. All I had to do was attend lectures, go to tutorials, write essays and catch the bus every day, things I felt capable of achieving.
Suddenly, I was back in my comfort zone and it felt all the more secure for having stepped out of it for a while. This was where I belonged and the big wide world could go take a hike.
I sat at my dressing table and decided for once I’d follow a beauty routine. Using my mum’s Forever Youthful cleanser and toner, I cleansed and toned, then liberally applied her Forever Youthful Day-Glow Moisturiser.
For a moment, I looked into the mirror, staring at my sad expression and thinking about all that had happened. I’d seen enough of the ageing process to last a lifetime. My eyes had been opened to the inevitability of ageing and death and I knew that I had to enjoy youth while it was still mine. My clear, smooth skin would be gone all too soon, as life and experience left their indelible mark and the passing years took their toll. I wondered how long it would be before tiny wrinkles started to criss-cross around my eyes and lines began to etch themselves into my face.
Unless ….
I hardly dared let the thought form in my mind. There was an alternative if I chose to believe Theo.
I thought about his flawless skin, translucent glow, mesmerising eyes and effortless beauty, then smiled ruefully. Whether I believed him or not, it was all academic. The opportunity had gone. As had my future with Theo. What faced me now was a long, slow decline into old age. Alone. Whoever else I met could never match up to Theo and would always be a poor imitation of love. I’d encountered perfection and lost it. There would be no one else.
I forced myself to concentrate on the here and now. What Theo had offered was an illusion, not based on reality. Had he really found a means of cheating death? And was my life really in such terrible danger? Now I saw it in the cold light of day, I realised how ridiculous it all was and berated myself for believing him.
I picked up my new Hollister top, wondering if life would ever get back to what it had been. I might not look old, but I felt it. Naivety and innocence were things of the past and I realised there was no way back to the world I’d once known. I’d walked through the doorway of awareness and it had slammed shut behind me.
Like it or not, I was in unchartered territory, and I had to face it on my own.
As I pulled on my top, I noticed the blue velvet cloak I’d borrowed from Hartswell Hall, lying folded at the bottom of my wardrobe. I’d pushed it to the back, trying to hide all proof of its existence, but now my eyes were drawn to it and I pulled it out, letting my fingers run across its smooth velvety surface. As I did, I felt a hard object concealed within its folds. Intrigued, I shook out the cloak and realised something was in one of the deep pockets. Putting my hand inside, my fingers closed around a hard, oblong shape. I pulled it out. It was my cell phone. I gasped. I’d been so sure I’d dropped it at Hartswell Hall on the night of the Blue Moon Ball, its presence in my hand was something of a shock.
“So The Lunari didn’t have it,” I found myself saying. “That's why they haven’t come looking for me. They didn't know I was there.”
As soon as I uttered the words, I realised I’d crossed another line. I’d just acknowledged that the reason I was safe was not that they didn’t exist, but rather that they didn’t know about me.
As I looked at the cloak, a flicker of doubt went through my mind.
Could Theo have been telling the truth? I’d certainly witnessed a very strange phenomenon that night when dozens of very old people had apparently been rejuvenated. But were they even the same people who came back out of the room? I’d assumed they were the same because they were wearing similar clothes. But what if the old people had gone out by one door and a different set of young people had come in via another? I knew there was another
entrance at the bottom of the Clock Tower. Joseph had said the wood was too warped for it to open, but he’d said he was going to replace it. If he had, it would be easy for people to get in and out of the upper Clock Tower room without having to go through the house. But why pull off such an elaborate hoax? And for whose benefit? Then I thought about Theo and his family. They’d been looking old and tired, yet when they came out of the Clock Tower room they were radiant and youthful.
I realised I was going round in circles. Just as I had formulated a rational explanation, doubt crept in again. And what about the kitten?
“Ah, but was it the same kitten?” my rational self demanded. “They could have easily bought another one.”
My head was starting to spin, so I bundled the blue cloak back into my wardrobe and concentrated on getting ready for college. I placed the phone in my backpack, not yet ready to look at the pictures I’d taken at the Blue Moon Ball.
At the bus stop, I met up with Tash and Seth.
“Sorry to hear about your Granddad,” said Tash.
“Yeah, sorry, must have been a shock,” said Seth.
I smiled at them. “Thanks guys, it’s good to know I have you.”
Seth put his arm round my shoulders and hung over me, his long black fringe flopping forward. “You always have us Emily, we’re like a bad rash that won’t go away.”
“Nice analogy, Seth,” said Tash, poking him in the back.
I laughed. It was good to be back with my friends.
“How’s lover boy?” asked Seth as we got on the school bus.
“He’s not lover boy any more,” I answered. “I’m not seeing Theo. It’s finished.”
“You’re kidding,” exclaimed Tash, sliding into the seat next to me. “What happened? I thought you were love’s young dream.”