The Girl Who Lived Twice

by Tina Clough

  Thomas was more a film and book man than a TV watcher. He and Mia discovered that they both liked John Irving and both thought Ken Follett’s ‘The Pillars of the Earth’ was spellbinding.

  “I’d love to see the medieval cathedrals,” said Mia, her eyes alight with enthusiasm. “They have everything, centuries of embedded history and art, quite apart from the architecture. One day I’ll go there and do a tour of cathedrals.”

  “Yes, they’re wonderful. You stand there and imagine you can feel all the grief and joy and drama that have seeped into the stones over centuries. It’s like being part of a historical continuum. Well I think you’re supposed to feel religious, but I’m afraid that’s beyond me. I have to content myself with appreciating how beautiful they are.”

  Carl, who was still slowly eating, looked up at Thomas. “Remember when you were there last and you sent me a postcard from that wonderful church in Paris, what was that called? I’ve still got the card, I use it as a bookmark.”

  “That was Sainte-Chapelle. Yes, it’s a gem of a place, I go back to it nearly every time I’m in Paris.”

  Eventually the conversation reverted to books. Mia and Sarah had been brought up in a household where books and reading were part of daily life. Thomas had not, but he had acquired the habit because he was curious and liked to find things out.

  “I read more non-fiction than fiction - a lot of history and biographies from the historical eras that interest me – mainly the period from the Restoration to the end of the Peninsular Wars and the Regency era. And of course I read everything I can find about snuff boxes.”

  “I could have guessed that when you were showing me the snuffboxes. And some time I’d really love to see them properly and hear the stories. I wasn’t just being polite when I said that.”

  Carl spoke up on behalf of Thomas. “Of course he’ll show you! He loves showing them off – the trouble is that he never has anyone to show them to. I’m always telling him how lucky it is for me that he never brings any friends home, or has a girl friend, because I’m the one who benefits. He has time to spend with me, which is really nice.”

  When Mia brought the dessert Carl was fascinated. “Fancy pouring alcohol over ice cream, never had anything like it before. It smells delicious, what is it called?”

  Mia got the bottle of Bailey’s out to show him what it looked like. “Well, I recognise it now; they used to have ads for it on TV a few years ago. I’m going to get some of that next time I go shopping.”

  Thomas laughed. “I agree, Carl. This is a dessert that even I could make, it’s just that I never thought of it before.”

  They moved to the comfortable sofa and chairs to have coffee and Thomas looked at the painting of the man in the window and the irises in the vase. “The colour of those irises is perfect next to that marvellous painting, very effective.”

  “Yes, it works, doesn’t it?” She said no more, but a thrill of excitement ran through her; he had recognised the effect.

  Thomas asked if there had been any response since she sent the parcel to Irwin and Mia shook her head. “No, nothing. It’s very frustrating, but I can’t think of anything I can do now apart from wait.” Her feeling of frustration was obvious and Carl changed the subject.

  “I suppose they get lots of calls and emails from the public. They’re probably very careful not to make it easy for people to reach them at home. You read about celebrities getting hounded,” said Carl.

  “Yes, I’m sure you’re right, Carl, but there is a risk that among all the fan mail they must get, they won’t pay attention to my parcel. Though a CD would surely be different from the rest?”

  “When’s the ‘deadline’ for the Irwin accident? Sorry, no pun intended! You said last Sunday that you knew it must have happened before a certain date.” Thomas was echoing Mia’s own thoughts.

  “If it’s going to happen it must be today or tomorrow I think. All I can remember for a fact is that Sarah and James had heard the news before they got to London. And they’ll get there on Tuesday evening – that’s UK time, so it’s Wednesday morning for us. I remember James saying that he’d never realised that Irwin was truly world famous, until they got to London just after it happened, and it was all over the media for days.”

  Thomas looked intently at Mia. “You’re really worried about this, aren’t you? Is it that you think that if he’s killed you’ll be partly responsible? Or is it that if he doesn’t get killed, you might never know if they aborted the dive or if your prediction was wrong?”

  Mia was unnerved by how accurately he’d summed up her conflicting emotions, but it was a nice feeling that someone understood that mingled feeling of hope and fear. “You’re exactly right. I have a terrible sense of apprehension – fear and hope sort of mixed up, if that makes sense? On the one hand I want to save his life, but on the other it would prove a point if he were killed. I wish I hadn’t thought of that particular event when I drew up that document! It’s made it too personal, makes me feel like an executioner.”

  “I can see that, but if it happens you didn’t cause the accident and you’ve done your best to prevent it happening again. There’s nothing you could have done to make your warning more believable, after all. You’ll have to regard yourself as a marginal player in this drama - you can’t change things unless others choose to listen to you. You don’t really hold the power of life and death even if it feels like that right now!”

  Mia felt her eyes fill with tears and said nothing for a moment. Then she stood up and walked to the table to get the bottle of Bailey’s and replied while she had her back to the others. “Thank you! I was beginning to feel that I’m personally responsible for saving his life.”

  She returned and handed the bottle to Thomas. “I’ll get us some clean glasses for this.” She turned as he took the bottle and his fingers brushed against her hand. A surge of intense physical attraction flashed through her like an electric shock. As she walked back to the kitchen she felt her hand tingling and nearly stumbled. My God – I want him to touch me again! If Carl wasn’t here I might throw myself at him. This is mad, can you fall in love so fast - or is it just lust? I must pull myself together or he’ll think I am a sex mad, crazy woman.

  She returned from the kitchen with three glasses and made sure the conversation returned to a safe topic.

  When they left just after eleven, Carl gave her a little hug as he thanked her, but Thomas only said goodnight. She closed the door and stood for a moment leaning against it, trying to decide if he was uninterested, just kind and perceptive, or if he was attuned to her feelings because he was attracted to her. He had said or done nothing that he might not have said to any good friend. He had not even shaken her hand on arriving or leaving. Perhaps that electrifying touch, when she handed him the bottle, was unremarkable to him?

  She continued to wonder about Thomas, while she stacked the dishwasher and tidied up leftover food. I’m glad I managed to conceal how I felt. At least I hope it wasn’t obvious. There’s something about him that worries me; there’s a reserve or a barrier of some kind. Every now and then I think I detect a glint of interest or feel he’s particularly focussed on me, but then the shutters come down and the connection’s severed as if it had never been. However much I like him I mustn’t let him see how I feel. I don’t want to be rebuffed and I want to be able to continue seeing him and Carl together.

  She looked blankly at the casserole soaking in the sink and thought about Steve Irwin again. Within the next 24 hours the suspense would be over. She knew sleep would be slow to come with so much going on in her mind. She had a final slug of Bailey’s before going to bed. Perhaps being able to sleep would make up for the possible headache tomorrow.

  CHAPTER 12

  Mia was leaning forward towards the screen, scanning lists of document titles, frustrated at the time she had spent searching for a file. She knew she had seen it recently and it had the word ‘project’ in the title. The search function had unfortunately brought up
more than 200 files that had names including the word ‘project’ and she had only eliminated about 30 so far. She plugged on for another few minutes before the penny dropped and she leant back in her chair and laughed helplessly. Of course! The file she was trying to find did not exist yet; she had remembered sitting there admiring the formatting and thinking it might be useful to copy one day – but that was not in This Time; it happened in That Time! She smiled at the thought of plagiarising something that did not yet exist.

  “Well, you are having fun! Care to share the joke?” Josh was standing in the doorway looking amused. Suddenly she felt flustered. “No, sorry, no joke really. Just early onset of memory loss, I’m afraid. I managed to completely confuse myself just then.”

  Something flickered behind Josh’s eyes, but all he said was, “Oh, well, that sort of thing sometimes happens on a Monday morning!” and continued on his way. Mia sat perfectly still, puzzled and trying to interpret his expression. That funny look that had flitted across his face, what was it? Something like satisfaction or even elation - but gone in a split second. Why did he look like that? All I said was – oh, my god; I know what it could be. I said I had completely confused myself and maybe he thought what a great quote that could be, when the so-called errors in that spread-sheet are discovered.

  She turned back to the computer, located the crucial Excel file on the shared drive, and Snap! There it was, the totals were different and the embedded comments had been removed. She flicked her cursor over the cells in the ‘Totals’ row and saw instantly that Josh had indeed done exactly what she remembered from That Time. He’s taken the top row of expenses out of the formula and reduced the total expenses so the viability looks OK. I’ve done it, now I’ve got him! I wish I could go to Alan straight away and tell him. But I’ve got to be patient; I must make sure the proposal is final before I speak up. But I can’t let it be presented to the clients with the faulty information like last time, it would damage the company.

  She went out for lunch in a café, eager to be away from the office and give herself the space to think it all through. She must find out when the presentation meeting was to take place. Sometimes it was at the clients’ place and sometimes at the office, but the date would be in the diaries of Josh and Alan. Bet Josh has got a flashy diary with brassbound corners, she thought nastily, unless he has one of those little electronic palm gizmos. I must find out and sneak a look. I hate being underhand, but Josh deserves no mercy.

  She had imagined that it could be a couple of days before a good opportunity presented itself, but mid-afternoon Alan came in. “I’ve told them to put the call through to you, if the marketing chap from Jobling & Brown calls – hope you don’t mind? You know all the details of that costing as well as I do, you did most of the work. Josh and I have a meeting at Hillman’s and we’ll be lucky if we make it back by five.”

  She made sure they had left the building before she made a first attempt. She picked up a couple of pages of work notes and headed for the copier, made a set of copies and then walked back to Josh’s door. There was nobody in sight and no sound of anyone approaching. Feeling furtive and devious she walked into Josh’s room, holding her copies like a shield. If anyone came in and found her there she would say that she was dropping off some papers and was just on her way back to her office. The computer was on and his satchel was on the cabinet beside the desk. By walking along the desk towards the wall, she kept out of the line of sight from the door. She could just reach the satchel by leaning across the desk. There was no diary there or on the desk. He probably had it with him and she would have to try again later.

  She stood for a moment weighing up the risk of going to the other side of the desk and having a look at the pile of papers on his filing cabinet and then maybe checking the computer calendar. She grabbed a pen from the desk so she could claim to be writing a note on the papers she had brought, and carefully lifted the untidy pile of papers on the filing cabinet – no diary there. She double-checked the desk and the top of the cupboard and found nothing. She flicked a fingertip on the mouse and the screensaver folded back to reveal an open Word file and, at the bottom of the screen the Outlook icon, open and minimised.

  It was the work of a second to click on it, switch from the email folder to the calendar and scan the entries. It was full of entries, so she had been wrong; he did use it. Her eyes flew down the columns, her mind busy trying to interpret abbreviations and initials. She changed the display to Month rather than Week and found what she was looking for – on September 12 a three-hour block of time had been marked off from 2 pm for the meeting. The word ‘here’ must mean that the meeting would be held in the third floor presentation room, just as it had in That Time. Just thinking of the humiliation she had faced in that room made her skin crawl and her resolve strengthened. Josh deserved what was coming.

  Feeling nervous now Mia restored everything to its original state and minimised Outlook, leaving the screen exactly as it had been. The screensaver would pop up again after a few minutes and when Josh returned there would be nothing to show that she had been in the room.

  She felt a rush of urgency, took her papers and left quickly, checking that there was nobody in the corridor to see her coming out. Today was Monday September 4, so the report might not be finished, printed and bound until Monday, or maybe even Tuesday morning, if things were busy. Reports and proposals were often given to poor Lisa to copy and bind at the very last moment – she had often heard Lisa complaining about it and could sympathise. She would leave it until Monday, then get hold of a copy and take it straight to Alan. And then when Josh would try to use her as a scapegoat she would ‘remember’ that she had saved a duplicate of the original in her own folder. And if need be she could eventually remember that she had emailed it to someone by mistake – ample proof of its original state at that date.

  Mia sighed and thought of how complicated it would be to constantly be involved in this kind of game. It seemed to involve juggling so many half-truths and strategies; it was hard to believe that people could be bothered making whole careers out of lies and deceit. How did they ever remember all the twists and turns of what they were involved in?

  What with all the excitement and stress of her investigation Mia forgot to fret about Steve Irwin’s fate for the remainder of the afternoon. When she got home she turned the radio on and the first item on the 5.30 news was Irwin’s death. She stood as if frozen and listened to the scant details – exactly as it had happened before. Why had he not listened and cancelled that dive? Tears started running down her cheeks and she wanted to howl with frustration and sadness. When the phone rang she picked it up, trying to stem her tears, and heard Lorraine’s voice, sounding awestruck: “I just heard it on the news! Did you hear it? He died!”

  “I just heard.” Mia was crying hard. “I can’t believe it – he went and did that bloody dive again! And he wasn’t even careful!”

  “Now, hang on, darling. He might not have got your warning, you know. Whatever the reason, you’ve definitely proved that your story is true. Not that I ever doubted you, however mad it seemed.”

  Mia stopped sobbing and struggled to control her voice. “I know - you’ve been marvellous. Can you do me a favour, I feel a bit upset and funny – it’s as if I’ve lost someone I know. Can you just text the others and tell them that I’m in a funny mood and I’d rather not talk to anyone tonight? Just to send me an email if they want to communicate?” She was certain that they would all be calling or texting her any minute now.

  “Of course I will, don’t worry – they’ll understand. Would you like me to come round to keep you company?”

  “No thanks, not that I don’t want to see you, but I just need to have some time to absorb this. I’ll be back to normal again soon. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  The minute she put the phone down it rang again, this time it was Thomas. Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice. “Mia, are you all right? I heard the news.”

  �
��I am OK, thanks. I don’t quite know how I feel – conflicting emotions you could say.”

  “Have you been crying? Your voice sounds strange.” And at that she started crying silently again. It was a moment before she could talk; his concern had completely undone her composure and she felt as upset as she had when she first spoke to Lorraine. “Sorry, Thomas. I’ve just been talking to Lorraine and she calmed me down with her wonderful logic, but now I’m all in pieces again.”

  “I’m not surprised! I imagine you feel pleased that he proved your story and devastated that he didn’t listen to your warning - all at the same time?” He had captured her feelings perfectly, just like the previous day.

  “Yes, that’s it, in a way I feel as if I killed him. I don’t know how you do it – you always understand.”

  There was a pause and when he replied he sounded cautious and slightly distant. “Well, I’m glad if it helps you feel better in some way.”

  It was awkward to know where to go from here, but Mia wanted to restore normality before putting the phone down. She knew he was guarded, that he might regret having been so personal. Perhaps he felt threatened by her frankness, or worried that she wanted to be more than friends. She thanked him for calling and said goodbye, but she remained by the kitchen bench for several minutes, trying to recapture the surge of comfort she had felt when they spoke but at the same time she warned herself not to hope for anything more.

  The evening would drag – Mia felt as if someone had pulled a grey veil of gloom over her. To create a diversion she walked to the kebab shop three blocks away and bought her favourite take-away: vegetarian kebab with plum sauce and sour cream. She carried it home in the insulated bag and ate it while watching a silly film of the kind she would normally never bother with. This is sadness therapy, she thought and refilled her wineglass and tomorrow will be better.