Déjà Vu

by Stephen Edger

  I’m in a lift ... it’s a nice lift, not like those I’ve been in, in council blocks ... this one has a tall mirror, and I see myself ... I am alone, and the lift slowly climbs floors ... it reaches the top floor – floor fifteen – and the doors open ... I roll forward, but I am not in control of my actions ... it is windy and wet ... I climb out of my wheelchair and on to the ledge ... I am on the roof of a giant tower and everything below me is tiny; like ants ... I see Rob appear ... he wants me to leap out and take his hands ... I jump, but he disappears and then I’m falling ... I wake as I’m about to hit the ground.

  She wanted to get inside the building, to travel in the lift and see if it resembled what she’d seen in the dream. She was certain she’d never been inside the tower – she had no reason to have been inside – but it had felt familiar to her. And seeing the front face of the building, it was exactly as she had expected it to look, save for the rental signs.

  Another busy crowd emerged from the station’s automatic doors as a second train deposited passengers, and some raced past her as if she wasn’t even there. The car park slowly emptied as Megan remained where she was, still looking up at the tower block, trying to see what she was missing. Something wasn’t right, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. In the dream, something had been different, but as she clamped her eyes shut, she couldn’t see it.

  ‘Spare change, luv?’ a male voice called out, snapping Megan back to the present.

  ‘What? Sorry?’ she asked, as she opened her eyes and saw a man in a denim jacket and light grey jogging bottoms staring at her. The sleeves of the jacket bore the dark stains of someone who hadn’t changed it in some time. She tried to ignore the strong scent of urine assaulting her nostrils, and made an apologetic face.

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t have any spare change at the moment.’

  ‘Gi’s a cigarette then.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t smoke,’ Megan replied, suddenly feeling vulnerable, all alone in an area she wasn’t familiar with.

  The homeless man gave her another look, as if he expected her to change her mind, before chasing after another potential donator, who was wearing a tailored suit, and carrying a leather attaché case.

  It wasn’t that Megan didn’t want to help others in need, but she wasn’t due to get paid until Friday, and all she had left was the money in her purse, and a flat devoid of food. She continued to watch the guy in the denim jacket shunned by one passer-by and then another, and the guilt grew within her. Rob would have handed him some change without thinking twice, and that was another reminder of how much better he was than her.

  She released the brake and was heading towards the homeless man and the automatic doors, when there was an almighty crash across the street. Megan ducked and covered her head with her arms instinctively, before slowly looking back to where the sound had emanated.

  A van which had been parked outside one of the cafés looked as though it had imploded. The front windows had blown out onto the street, leaving tiny sparkling shards of glass, while the roof of the van seemed to disappear within itself. It was only as Megan looked closer that she saw the arm hanging down where the windscreen should have been. The van hadn’t imploded. Something heavy had landed on it from a great height.

  Someone had fallen from the tower block.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Jake hadn’t been surprised to not find Isabella waiting for them at the school gates. She’d never been one to take criticism well, and being made to feel small by a teacher, whom Isabella would deem below her in status, was always going to end badly. Jake had just been relieved that Isabella had held her tongue this time. The last thing Gabby needed was for her mum to upset her teacher.

  There was no sign of Isabella’s car on the driveway when they returned home either. Or any sign that she had been home since the school visit. Jake didn’t even want to consider where she might be or what she might be doing. She was still his wife, but that responsibility would be over soon enough, and then they would formally acknowledge one another as the acquaintances they’d become for the past year.

  Gabby had headed to the dining room to complete some sums Miss Croft had sent them home with. Jake had asked if she needed any help, but she’d confidently told him it was easy mathematics. Jake had never found any kind of mathematics easy, but headed upstairs to shower and change. And when he returned to the living room, he found her sat in there watching cartoons on the television.

  ‘You finished your homework already?’ he asked.

  Her eyes remained fixed on the screen. ‘Yeah. I only had ten to do. You can check them if you like.’

  ‘I trust you,’ he said, though made a mental note to give the sums the once over after she’d gone to bed. ‘Don’t you want to play in the garden? Or maybe we could walk down to the park?’

  She was still studying the cartoon. ‘No, I’m okay. It’s too hot to play outside.’

  For once she had a point, but he wasn’t prepared to allow her to just veg out on the sofa watching television.

  He didn’t usually get home from work until after Isabella had fed and washed Gabby. Most times she was already in her pyjamas by the time he walked in through the door. But it was only just five o’clock, and it would be a couple of hours until Gabby was due to go to bed. What did Isabella do with her between these unscheduled hours?

  ‘How about I run you a refreshing bath?’ he tried, noticing she was still in her green and white chequered summer dress.

  Her head slowly turned, her eyebrows raised. ‘A bath? I’m seven now, Dad. I shower.’

  The putdown was delivered in such a dour tone, but he couldn’t help but smile. That was her mother’s sass. There and then he knew that Gabby would never allow anyone to walk over her. She had her mother’s inner strength, and so long as it was tempered in the right way, Gabby would grow into a strong and confident woman. But left alone for too long with her mother and she would turn into a second generation Isabella.

  Jake grabbed the remote control from the corner of the sofa and switched off the television.

  ‘Hey, I was watching that!’ Gabby grizzled.

  ‘Time for a shower, and then you can change into some shorts and a t-shirt, or even your nightdress if you prefer. Chop-chop!’

  Gabby dragged herself from the sofa making a show of her dissatisfaction at the command, but not daring to argue. Jake followed her to the foot of the stairs, turning into the kitchen.

  ‘Um, Dad?’ Gabby called from the staircase.

  Jake poked his head back out of the kitchen. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Aren’t you going to come up and put on the shower for me?’

  Jake gave her a puzzled look, before nodding and taking the stairs up two-at-a-time. ‘Sorry, when you said you shower, I assumed you knew what you were doing.’

  ‘Mum usually makes sure the water’s not too hot.’

  Jake headed into the bathroom, a new found respect for Isabella slowly dawning. Maybe he had done her a disservice in assuming she did very little with her day. Clearly she’d established a routine with Gabby, and he would have a steep learning curve getting to grips with it, if he was to win the custody battle. Not that he had much belief that the family court would rule in his favour. Although Isabella’s philandering would be the root cause listed in the docket, it was rare for British courts to award custody to the father. Even more so when you took into account his odd working times. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try everything in his power to win.

  Once Gabby was happy with the temperature of the water, he left her alone in the cubicle, while he busied himself in the spare room, which had become his hub in the house. He put his shirt in the wash and changed back into the shorts and t-shirt he’d been wearing before meeting with DCI Toshack at the hospital that morning. He wondered whether it was worth calling Tosh and reporting on the case in New Milton, but the DCI probably wouldn’t be interested. It was Inspector Carlton’s territory, and unless a body or a haul of narcotics was
found, the Major Investigation Team wouldn’t get involved.

  Gabby emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, her wet hair tied up in a small towel, with a larger one around her middle. Jake couldn’t help but notice how grownup she looked. How could this be the same girl he had held so tenderly in his arms on that first day? The same baby who had weed, pooed and vomited at once when he’d had to change her first nappy in the hospital. She was growing up way too fast, and how many of her special moments had he already missed because of work and arguments with Isabella.

  ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ Gabby asked, as she walked past him towards her bedroom.

  ‘Like what?’

  Her nose wrinkled up. ‘I don’t know. It’s just weird.’

  Jake looked away, holding on to the memory of that first day for a moment longer, before turning back to face her. ‘What do you fancy for dinner?’

  Her eyes widened with excitement. ‘Pizza!’

  It was Jake’s turn to frown. ‘I was thinking something healthier. Maybe something with peas?’

  Gabby shook her head. ‘I don’t like peas!’

  Jake scratched his head, unsure what food they even had in the fridge. And then a grin broke out on his face as an idea formed. ‘What if we made a pizza? The two of us. From scratch.’

  Gabby didn’t look as keen on the idea.

  ‘It’ll be fun. I’m sure we can whip up a dough, tomato sauce, and there must be some kind of cheese in the fridge. What do you say?’

  ‘Do you know how to make pizza?’

  ‘Honestly? No, but it can’t be that difficult or there wouldn’t be so many frozen varieties.’

  ‘Okay,’ Gabby sighed gently. ‘I’ll get dressed and meet you in the kitchen.

  Jake was buzzing by the time she eventually strolled down, though he wasn’t sure why she’d taken so long. ‘Right,’ he said, clapping his hands together, ‘I’ve found a recipe on the internet and we have the flour, baking powder, oil and water needed to make the dough. Then I found some tomato passata in the cupboard, and even a ball of mozzarella at the back of the fridge. What else do you want on your pizza?’

  Gabby gave it some thought. ‘Salami?’

  Jake rifled through the fridge until he found a packet of salami. ‘What else? Onion? Olives? Anchovies?’ The last suggestion was a joke and both screwed up their faces in disgust at the suggestion, before erupting into laughter.

  ‘Just salami is fine for me, but I want lots of cheese. Are you going to put horrible toppings on it?’

  ‘I thought we’d make one each. Then I can have what I want, and you can have what you want. Sound fair?’

  A smile broke out on her face for the first time since they’d been home, and she lifted her ponytail so he could slip the small apron around her neck, and then tied it behind her back.

  Standing on a small fold-out plastic step, Gabby was able to just about reach the countertop, and as Jake measured out the dried ingredients, Gabby added them to the bowl, clouds of flour erupting and settling on every surface and on the two of them too. But Jake didn’t care. As he read out the recipe steps, Gabby followed every instruction in her own way, and as the dough was left to rise, they worked on the pizza sauce, adding herbs, a squirt of ketchup for sweetness, and onions for Jake. It took less than half an hour, but as they stood back to admire the pizzas slowly browning in the oven, Jake knew he had formed a memory that he would hold for all time.

  After dinner, and with both pizzas devoured, they sat back on the sofa and watched some Tom and Jerry, one of Jake’s childhood favourites. He felt content, and the thought of repeating the escapade every night for the rest of his life filled Jake with renewed hope about the potential custody battle.

  ‘Are you and Mummy getting divorced?’ Gabby suddenly asked, shattering the silence.

  It caught Jake off-guard, and he choked on spittle, coughing until he could speak again. ‘What makes you ask that?’

  Gabby didn’t look up at him. ‘You argue all the time, and you’re never together. That’s a sign, isn’t it?’

  Jake’s cheeks flushed; why had the room become so hot all of a sudden? He wasn’t sure where to begin with answering that question. Isabella and he had agreed they would break the news to Gabby together. Although neither had anticipated Gabby would be the one to instigate the conversation, Jake didn’t feel it was right to broach the subject without Isabella there.

  He decided to steer away from the question. ‘How do you know what divorce is?’

  ‘Travis in my class: his parents are getting divorced. He’s been missing a lot of school recently, but he came back in on Monday and told everyone his parents are getting divorced. Miss Croft was cross with him for telling everyone, but then she explained to us what divorce is.’

  ‘And what did she say it was?’

  ‘She said it’s when a mum and dad no longer love each other, and decide to live in different houses. Do you not love Mum anymore?’

  Jake didn’t need to think twice about his answer. ‘I will always love your mother, Gabby. Without her I wouldn’t have you, and so even if she did horrible things to me, deep down I can’t feel anything but love towards her. Do you understand?’

  Gabby nodded, even though her face didn’t echo the gesture.

  ‘How long have you thought Mum and I are getting divorced?’

  She shrugged, staring back at the screen.

  ‘What you need to know, Gabby, is that we both love you more than anything, and no matter how much we argue and disagree about things, nothing will ever change the love we feel for you, do you understand?’

  She didn’t answer but squashed the top of her head into the crook of his armpit, wrapping her free arm around his middle. Jake pulled her in closer, kissing the top of her head as the cartoon continued to play, though he sensed neither of them was really watching it.

  Gabby said little else before it was time for her to head up to bed, and after he’d read her a story, and kissed her goodnight, he headed back downstairs and moved straight to the fridge, needing something to take the edge off what had turned into an uncomfortable evening. He was about to open the bottle of lager when he heard his phone ringing. Running into the living room to answer it before the noise disturbed Gabby’s sleep, he didn’t recognise the number.

  ‘Hello? DS Jake Knight speaking.’

  ‘DS Knight? It’s Harry, sorry, PC Venables. We met earlier today?’

  Jake checked the display again, as his eyes narrowed. ‘Yes, I remember you, Harry. Is everything okay?’

  ‘No...I need you to come back to the lake.’ There was an urgency in Harry’s voice that was alarming Jake.

  ‘I’ll be there around nine tomorrow. Can it wait until then?’

  ‘No. You need to come now.’

  ‘Calm down, Harry. I can’t come now. I’ve just put my daughter to bed. What’s so urgent it can’t wait until the morning?’

  ‘It’s the lake, sir. I found something. You need to come now.’

  TWENTY-FOUR

  The night sky above the train station was now much darker than when Megan had first arrived. That’s what had been different about the nightmare and her arrival. She hadn’t been able to see it at first, but as the minutes had passed like leaves on a rapidly-flowing river, the realisation had dawned. But the unfolding scene – interspersed with the constant flash of blue against every reflective surface – looked nothing like she had seen in her dream.

  It had all seemed so unreal: the van’s windows exploding, the screams of panic from those who had come rushing out of the nearby cafés, the victim’s arm appearing where the windscreen should have been. And then the emergency services arriving was a blur of a memory. The police, the fire service and ambulances had shown up as the surrounding area had been sealed off, with station users redirected to the entrance and exit on the other side of the tracks.

  Even now, as Megan sat in the back of the police car sipping the cup of sweet tea somebody had handed her,
none of it felt real. Was this another of those intense nightmares? In the back of her mind she was convinced it wasn’t, but if this was reality, she’d rather live in a dream.

  How she’d ended up in the police car was still a bit of a blur too. She could remember voices screaming that the victim was female, that there was no pulse, and then there were uniformed officers setting up police cordons, and someone else trying to gather groups of witnesses.

  Someone had asked if she’d seen anything, and she couldn’t remember what she’d said, but she’d been asked to wait in the back of the car for someone to come and take a statement. But she had no idea how long she’d been sat there. Or even if she was there at all.

  The car shook slightly as one of the front doors opened, and a burly man in navy blue climbed into the passenger seat, before turning to face her through the gap in the seats.

  ‘Miss Hopkirk, is it?’

  Megan had to blink twice to confirm he was actually there and speaking to her.

  ‘Miss Hopkirk?’

  ‘Um, yes...I mean, yes I’m Megan Hopkirk.’

  The officer seemed relieved he’d found the right car, and flipped through his notebook until he found the page he was looking for. Megan noticed her name at the top of a fresh sheet, and wondered why it was underlined.

  ‘And you witnessed the body – sorry, the victim – fall from the tower?’

  ‘Well, no...um, I mean, yes...well, I mean I didn’t see the fall, but...’

  The officer frowned at her. ‘I’m sure this isn’t easy for you, Miss Hopkirk. Take your time. May I call you Megan?’

  She nodded, still not quite sure how real he was. His face was clean shaven, but the thick skin seemed to hang down from his jaw. This was a man who enjoyed his food, and probably wasn’t too far from retiring, judging by the dark grey hair over the top of his ears.

  ‘My name is PC Durridge, Megan. Why don’t you start from the beginning: what were you doing down this way this evening?’