Perfectly Reflected

by S. C. Ransom

  “Are you OK to do this, sweetheart? We can call them back and say we’ll come tomorrow if you would rather.”

  I tried hard to control myself. “No, Dad, it’s fine. I’d much rather know now, and not spend the rest of the weekend worrying about it.” I quickly left the table to go and get my bag and paperwork; that way I wouldn’t have to look at any of the concerned faces around the table.

  The trip to Twickenham Police Station was very quick at that time of the evening, and all too soon we were walking up the familiar steps. After a brief stop in the shabby waiting area our names were called and we were ushered into a small, windowless room with a desk, chairs and a television. The TV was old and grubby, with tape holding on the front panel that hid the buttons. After a few minutes the door opened again and two figures came in. One was the slightly cynical CID officer who had taken my statement earlier; the other was a much younger and more excited-looking guy. He was also in plain clothes, and he was introduced as being from “Technical Liaison”. A little yellow light bounced around his head.

  “Hi,” he said, shaking my hand vigorously. “I’m Oliver. I’m responsible for all the IT round here.” He waved his hand about as if he were including the prehistoric TV in his proud domain. I smiled weakly as I tried to surreptitiously wipe my hand down the leg of my jeans. He was very sweaty. “Now,” he continued, “this is very exciting. The software is all very new and it’s the first time we have been able to use it.”

  His partner cleared his throat and mumbled, “Get on with it,” to him. Oliver flushed slightly but wasn’t about to be put off. The yellow aura, which had flickered briefly, returned brighter than before.

  “All the images from the bank branch get automatically streamed to the head office in real time, then compressed for storage. So when we have a case like this, all we have to do is give their data centre the details of the branch, the date and time, and bingo! They can find it all. It’s so much clearer than the old Crimewatch-style footage. No mistaking anyone with this baby!”

  All the time he was talking he was fiddling with the remote control, flicking though the channels on the TV. He hesitated briefly over a football match, and both Dad and the officer suddenly sat up and took a bit more notice, but then that too was gone. Finally he stopped at a blank screen. Within a few seconds it flickered and there was a picture of a man standing in front of a bank cashier. The picture was taken from above the cashier, looking straight at the face of the customer. Oliver was right, the picture was crystal clear; I could see every button on his shirt, the details of the comb-over hairstyle and the pattern on his jumper. And I had absolutely no idea who he was.

  “I’m afraid I’ve never seen him before in my life, Officer,” I said to the policeman, trying not to sound too relieved that it wasn’t someone I knew.

  “Oh, that’s not them; look at the time stamp,” cut in Oliver. “He was a few minutes ahead of the one we want. We just need to wait a moment…”

  I couldn’t help holding my breath. Who was it that hated me so much and knew every detail of my life?

  “Fifteen thirty-seven, that’s what we are waiting for, that’s when the transaction completed,” announced Oliver to no one in particular. We were all staring intently at the screen, and as the numbers ticked over the half hour we all unconsciously leaned a little closer. The angle of the camera was quite steep, so until the person actually stepped into position in front of the cashier there was nothing to see except their feet. But the feet behind the unknown man were clearly female. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and my hands gripped the seat of the chair I was perched on. Finally the man finished his transaction and moved away, and the feet moved forwards.

  The girl looked at the cashier and then, slowly and confidently, directly at the camera lens, directly at me. With a level of self-control I had no idea I possessed, I stayed in my seat, not giving anything away while the policemen waited for my reaction. And up on the screen, as if she knew I would be watching, a brief, smug smile flashed across Catherine’s face.

  I didn’t get much sleep that night; my mind was racing and I desperately wanted to talk to Callum. Catherine was alive! The implications and the possibilities kept going round in my head, and I could feel a great surge of hope within me. Catherine had made it over to my side, which meant that Callum could too!

  But before I could give any time to thinking about that, I had to convince the police and my dad that I didn’t know Catherine, that she wasn’t some friend I’d fallen out with and that I couldn’t just give them a name. It was really hard to hide the excitement that was surging through me. There was a solution! After all we had been through there was an answer. I was questioned for a long time, but it wasn’t difficult to keep to my story as I really didn’t know anything about her or where she might be.

  In the early hours of Sunday morning Dad and I finally got home, and I had some time to myself to try and make sense of it all. But by that point my brain felt really fried; it had been a long and eventful day, with the near-death experience in St Paul’s, then losing the money and ending with another trip to the police station. And woven through all of my thoughts was Catherine.

  I was woken early the next morning by the strange sensation of the tingle coming and going from my wrist. As soon as I lurched into consciousness, Callum was in my head.

  “Are you OK? What happened?” His voice was loud and urgent.

  “Umm, I’m fine really, there’s nothing wrong. Just give me a second,” I mumbled, trying to make my brain work.

  “I got here as early as I could,” he went on, “and I overheard your parents talking about being at the police station again, and that you were behaving a bit oddly. What was it? What’s happened now?”

  “I’m fine, honestly, and I do have some news, but I think it would be better if we could talk properly rather than having to whisper all the time. Let me get dressed and we can walk somewhere.”

  “Sure, if you would rather do that. As long as you’re OK – I’ve been worrying all night, and then when I heard your parents, well, I guess I panicked a bit. Sorry.”

  I had managed to open the mirror and hold it up so that I could see his face, the rueful smile smoothing out the frown lines. The hope that had been swirling around in my head the night before grew and intensified, and I couldn’t help beaming at him. He sat back, shocked.

  “Are you sure you’re OK?”

  “Yes, I’m really all right, and I’m delighted to see you! Now go and loiter somewhere else while I get changed.” I couldn’t wait to get him outside to talk to him properly.

  It was still pretty early so my parents were sitting in bed with their morning coffee. They looked surprised to see me up and dressed quite so soon after such a late night, but seemed to accept the explanation that I couldn’t sleep. I offered to walk to the shops to get the papers as that gave me a great excuse to be getting out. I put my earpiece in as I went down the stairs and practically ran out of the house. Callum was with me instantly.

  “Well?” he asked as I hurried along the road. “What is it? Why were you at the police station again? Did they find who took your money?”

  “Hang on a minute. I really, really want to be sitting down having a proper conversation with you. Let’s get to the swings first.”

  Just round the corner from the house was a small playground with swings and roundabouts. It wasn’t used very much and Grace and I often came here as a quiet place to sit and gossip away from interfering brothers and parents. A woman was just strapping a toddler into a pushchair as I arrived, but otherwise it was deserted. As I waited for her to get out of earshot I sat on the top of the roundabout and set up the mirror in front of me so I could see as much of Callum as possible. The wait was obviously getting to him.

  “Come on! Tell me! This is doing my head in!”

  “Well, I went to the police station last night with Dad because they had a video of the person who stole my money. And now I’ve seen her, I know she’s
the same person who has been doing all the other things too.”

  Callum sat up straighter. “Her? So who was it? Do I know her?”

  “Oh, you know her, all right, but I’m not sure you’re going to believe me.”

  “So come on, who was it?”

  I took a deep breath. “Catherine.”

  He looked at me blankly for a moment. “Catherine?”

  “Your sister, Catherine. Human, real, in the flesh. Living and breathing and stealing all my money. Smiling as she did it, too.”

  I watched the shock cross his face, then he shook his head. “You must’ve been mistaken. Catherine’s dead. I saw her explode in a shower of sparks and die.”

  “I’m not mistaken. It was her, and they have her on the video. She looked directly at the camera and smiled, as if she knew that we would see it. She’s alive! Don’t you see what this means?” I wanted to shake him, to stop him worrying and think about how exciting this all was.

  “Catherine’s alive?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Alive,” I agreed, “and obviously out to cause trouble.” I could see him frowning again, a shadow crossing his deep-blue eyes as he stared into the distance. A couple of times he looked like he was about to speak, but then stopped himself. I waited for him to come to terms with what I had told him, and eventually he straightened his shoulders and looked at me.

  “Catherine is alive.” This time it was a statement, not a question.

  “Yes, alive and kicking.”

  “And she’s the one who’s been making your life miserable.” Another statement.

  “I guess so,” I agreed. “But more importantly, she’s escaped being a Dirge and come back to life.”

  The faraway look was back on Callum’s face. “That’s what happens when we empty a mind – we get our lives back.” His voice was low but excited. “We don’t die, as everyone thinks, but we get our lives back!”

  “I know – isn’t that brilliant! There is a way out of there for you after all – you don’t have to spend eternity reliving the misery of death. You can come over here and join me!”

  He was glowing, as if the excitement had lit him up from within. “We can be together after all,” he breathed, holding me close in the mirror and kissing my ear. “So Catherine must still have your memories and that’s why she knows all the stuff about you.”

  “I know. I’ve been trying not to think too much about that bit. I don’t like the idea of her knowing all the private details about my life,” I admitted.

  His mesmerising eyes scanned the horizon again, and the early morning sunshine picked out the gold in his hair. “She’ll know everything. Every fact about your life so far.”

  I gulped as I thought about that. It wasn’t just the stuff about my friends, or my bank details, that she knew. Every thought I had ever had about Callum, all my desires and fantasies, all could be in her grasp. I hadn’t worked through the implications of that before. “Do you think that’s really likely?” I asked, trying not to sound too horrified.

  “Well, she took everything from you, so I guess she still has it all.”

  “That is so embarrassing. My every thought – not something I really wanted to share with someone else, especially not Catherine.” I paused for a moment. “Mind you, I bet she’ll find some of it pretty nauseating – she doesn’t feel the same way about you as I do!”

  “I’m sure.” There was the ghost of a smile on his lips as he considered that and then his face suddenly fell.

  “What is it?”

  “We’re not going to be able to get me over to you any time soon. There’s a pretty huge problem to solve first.”

  “What’s another problem? We’ve solved plenty already.”

  “I might be able to escape, but I need someone’s memories to do it. I’d have to kill someone.”

  How had I not figured that out? I felt winded; all my excitement suddenly evaporated. Catherine had only succeeded because she had been willing to leave me for dead, and I knew Callum wouldn’t want to do that to anyone.

  “But, can’t we take a copy, like we did before? Is there any way that would work?”

  “Not without involving another Dirge, and I can’t see too many who would be willing to make the sacrifice of their own memory store to keep you safe, can you?”

  I knew the pain he was still in every day from what he had done for me, to keep me alive. And I was pretty sure I only knew about a fraction of it. He loved me too much to let me know the truth. There was no one else who would do that for us. We both sat silently for a moment, him staring into the distance, me considering the scuffed surface of the playground equipment. My mind whirred.

  “Callum, I don’t know what to say. You know that I’ll help in any way I can. Can I give you some of my memories? Can’t we make that work?”

  He looked at me as if I were mad. “What? Don’t be ridiculous!”

  “I’m not being ridiculous. I’m just trying to explore all the options.”

  He pressed the fingers of his free hand into the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes briefly. “Look, I know what you’re doing, and I love you for it, but there are no options. Don’t you understand? Either I kill someone or I stay here!”

  I was stunned into silence. What on earth was the matter with him? He was concentrating on the floor, periodically shaking his head. Eventually I gave in. “Callum, are you OK? You don’t seem yourself this morning.”

  “Of course I’m—” he snapped, then bit off his words. “Morning – that’s the problem. I’ve not done enough gathering this morning. I came straight here to make sure you were safe. I can’t think straight.”

  I inwardly heaved a sigh of relief. He had told me before that the amulet needed filling first thing because the memories start to fade away overnight, and I had never seen him this early before. He didn’t usually need to gather too much in the morning because he wasn’t as miserable as the others, but his preference only to take unimportant memories and happy thoughts made this process much slower. I knew that most mornings he went to stations and found people on stationary trains reading their books, which kept him going until the cinemas opened. “Well, as we now know who is causing all this, I’ll be able to watch out while you go and get your breakfast.” I gave him the perkiest smile that I could manage.

  He shot me a grateful look. “Maybe I will. But in the meantime, we have to be very careful who we tell about this.”

  “Good point,” I agreed, thinking of the potential problems I would face if all the Dirges knew that there was a way to get their lives back. “But can we tell Matthew? Shouldn’t he know?”

  “Let me think about it. In some ways it might be even crueller to know that there is a way to become real again and that they don’t have it.”

  “But don’t you all deserve hope?” I asked, looking down at the amulet with the twisted silver that held the strange blue stone safe in its cage, trying to understand its bizarre but exciting power. “I mean, it just seems wrong to keep it from everyone, that’s all.”

  “I have to keep you safe,” he whispered. “I can’t allow anything to happen to you. You saw what happened yesterday, and if they knew that it wasn’t oblivion that you offered them, but the chance to live again, well, the temptation may be too much…”

  I swallowed hard, looking deep into his eyes. They were darker than usual, the gold flecks less obvious despite the early morning sunshine. They were filled with pain.

  “Let’s not talk any more about this now; you have more important things to do. Go and get your breakfast and I’ll get mine, and then we can talk later. If one of the others happens to find me I’ll be safe with the amulet on and I won’t say a word.”

  “If you’re sure,” he agreed grudgingly. “I won’t be long.” He kissed the top of my head and was suddenly gone. Sighing, I picked up the mirror and slowly made my way out of the deserted playground.

  Back home I divided up the huge Sunday newspaper and took most of it u
p to Mum and Dad, then settled down in the kitchen with the review section and a large mug of coffee. I flicked idly through the pages, not really expecting anything to distract me from our impossible situation. There was the usual selection of political exposés, celebrity gossip and human interest stories. I skimmed them all briefly until one small story at the bottom of the page caught my eye.

  Mystery Amnesia Victim Missing

  Police and social services were yesterday winding down the search for the mystery woman pulled from the Thames earlier this month. Able to identify herself only as Catherine, the woman has been under observation in Guy’s Hospital since her lucky rescue from the river two weeks ago. She disappeared on Wednesday and could still be suffering from mental trauma. The authorities are urging the woman to get back in touch and complete her treatment.

  I reread the article quickly before sitting back and exhaling gently. The bits of the jigsaw were slotting into place. Catherine and Callum had drowned in the waters of the River Fleet, just where it joined the Thames. It looked like the amulet took the Dirges back to the places where their bodies disappeared, and that would make any rescue attempt even more dangerous. Yet another problem to solve then, before we could even think about trying to get him over.

  I could worry about that later though. As I munched on my cereal I considered my immediate problem: I needed to find Catherine, and find out why she was making my life quite so miserable, and that was going to be tricky.

  I wished for the thousandth time that Grace knew everything. It felt so wrong to be bottling everything up inside. I hadn’t realised how much I relied on her help when I had a problem to solve. I couldn’t remember a time when I hadn’t asked her advice about something important, but since Callum, well I had been forced to keep everything to myself. Thankfully it had coincided with her starting to go out with Jack and I didn’t think that she had noticed anything was wrong. But right then though, some advice would have been really welcome.

  I read the article again, then crept silently upstairs to my laptop. There was bound to be some more stuff online about a story like that. The murmuring of voices and the rustle of papers were still evident in my parents’ room, so I sneaked past avoiding all the creaky floorboards, and carefully shut my bedroom door behind me. My search of the Internet quickly paid off, and in a few minutes I had a selection of articles about the mystery woman. All seemed to contain the same basic facts, although some had elaborated more than others.