by James Eddy
Chapter 5 – One Night Earlier...
1.
Reception was deserted. Oliver didn’t find that odd and barely gave it a second look. He pushed open the doors that led him out onto Prince of Wales Road.
There were no clouds in the sky but it was still dark; like an evening in the middle of the day. Oliver looked up and down the road. It seemed to be deserted, until he looked to his left. Further along was the figure he’d been hoping to see.
Even from a distance, he thought the girl was just as beautiful as ever. The problem was that she was running as fast as she could away from him. He shouted after her:
“HEY! Uh... Whatever your name is... WAIT!”
It was a waste of time. Oliver ran after her, stopping at a pedestrian crossing to look along the straight stretch of road she’d just run along. She wasn't there anymore. She was standing on the other side of the road and then she was running again; down a side street.
Oliver tried to follow but when he couldn't see her anymore he had to stop. A look back at the hotel revealed that she was running in that direction. And then she was completely out of sight. He followed and soon found himself somewhere unexpected.
2.
In the grounds of the cathedral, Oliver didn't stop running. All around him, autumn was in full bloom. The earth was damp and the yellow of the leaves on the ground appeared to be at odds with the deep green of the foliage of the fir trees.
His breathless jog remained surefooted even as he moved onto crunching shifting gravel. That was when he came to a skidding stop. Johnny was standing in his way. His friend was pale, and for some reason, Oliver noticed his dark hair was receding a little at the temples.
They stood for a moment without moving and Oliver saw him in a way he hadn't before; as a frozen monochrome image; barely more than a faded photograph that could only hint at everything he had once been.
“Johnny!” he exclaimed, with understandable surprise.
There was no reply and Oliver's mind came back round to what had been driving it only moments earlier.
“Have you seen her?” he asked.
Johnny shook his head and said, “No mate. Can't say I have.”
“Look I... I've got to go,” Oliver told him, barely able to look his friend in the face as he did so.
But Johnny's response wasn't what he expected.
“I have to go too,” he said, “But you shouldn’t leave just yet. Sit down with me for a bit... I can guarantee you'll find her.”
Oliver didn't answer. He was effectively being torn in two by the things he wanted and needed.
“Come on. A little time for an old friend... You'll get to her if you just stay with me a while longer... There are things that should be said."
Although Oliver knew this was true, what Johnny said next was a complete surprise:
“Look mate, I am really sorry. I know yer should've been there... But you weren't and yer can't blame yourself for that forever... He was the one with the knife and he was a bloody psycho. And that's not really a great combination... It's not like either of us knew that. If we had we'd have backed down wouldn't we.”
Oliver nodded his head and Johnny didn't dwell on such sad thoughts for long:
“I mean that's not to say I wasn't a little bit pissed off about things... But I figure that's a pretty normal reaction to dying.”
His smile put Oliver more at ease. It was obvious then that Johnny was fading but not even that could stop him passing on the warmth and life that still remained in his words:
“Yer know that in a lot of ways you've made it so I've always been with you and I really don't think that's been a good thing... You’ve made yourself into a ghost and that wasn't how it was meant to be... Remembering what happened should’ve made yer remember that you survived. You’re still alive. That should kind of make yer feel better... You've been down for seven years Olly and that's seven years too long really mate. It's time yer felt better...”
3.
In the knotted branches of the tree in the grounds of the primary school, Oliver and Johnny sat together. Meanwhile, below them and unaware, Miss Coyle was still searching the playing field and playground for both of them.
“Remember the good times,” Johnny told Oliver, “Would either of us have got through school if we hadn't known each other?”
4.
The question was with them when they arrived, to walk through the playing field of their high school. Before Oliver could respond, blackbirds flew from obscured branches into the sky and out of sight again.
“I guess not,” he eventually said, “But we aren't kids anymore.”
“That’s right,” Johnny agreed, “So maybe yer should stop living your life...”
5.
“Like something bad might happen. Like yer might get hurt. Because it might and you might but yer shouldn't be afraid... Yer shouldn't be afraid to hate or love or even just feel. You've denied yourself enough and you've been through far too much, my friend.”
The two of them were in the corridor of the high school, flanked by grey metal lockers, when Johnny said these words; the truth that finally fully struck home to Oliver.
There were so many emotions swirling round inside him but it was anger which was closest to the surface. The surprise was that it wasn’t just directed at thoughts of the time he’d wasted but also, in a small way, towards the friend he’d lost and would always miss. The reason was simple. He realised that although he loved Johnny, he also hated him for going away, for leaving, and for not surviving.
6.
Back in the cathedral grounds, the grass had been cut back to only a few millimetres. Oliver and Johnny sat on it, feeling it grow beneath them.
“You've gotta realise that there's nothing yer can change that's in the past," Johnny said calmly, "And I think we both need to be moving on.”
Oliver asked, “Will I ever see you again?”
“You already know the answer to that.”
He was right. Oliver was sure that his friend would be restored to his heart and head; as something new, something positive that would be no less real or important to him.
There was a brief pause before Johnny spoke again.
“When yer think about it,” he said, “There are loads of different types of feelings. What yer have to ask yourself is if the feelings stirred up by a book or play are really any different to what yer can feel in your hands or taste on your tongue. Because if they're the same and if you're able to imagine it, then imagine things and make them real... If yer do that then maybe things can be beautiful for yer.”
It was time to go and Johnny got up onto his feet and slowly walked away. He looked back only once at where Oliver was still sitting and said, “Oh yeah, just a little guidance mate... Please don't forget to remember.”
And then he was gone, but he would never be forgotten.
7.
The castle towered over Oliver as he sat on dry dirt and stones. He peered up at white stone blocks, turrets and arches that went all the way up to the sharp lines and angles of the battlements. It was a near perfect square with the addition of a lower wall of darker stone blocks that went all the way around the hill as a hexagon.
Oliver realised then who he was there to see and a moment later he found that she was sitting next to him.
He was relieved.
“Hello,” he said to the girl, “So this is where you are.”
She didn’t speak but grabbed both his hands and moved close to him. Gazing into his eyes, she said, “Don't forget to remember for it would be a shame; to forget Guildhall Hill, London Street and Upper Goat Lane... But worst of all it would be a horrific state, if you forgot to remember, on a day in September, the name Colegate.
“Let me guess, a little more guidance,” he said.
She nodded.
“I’m really sorry about before,” he told her.
Her eyes were calm and she nodded her head again. He was still sad.
> “I think you ought to know... I have to leave tomorrow.”
She looked towards the ground and didn’t look up.
“I thought so,” she said quietly, “You obviously won’t listen to anyone who tries to help you.”
Oliver cursed his wretched weakness.
“I want to,” he told her.
“Then why don't you do what you want to do.”
Hating himself didn’t help him find the strength he needed. There were no guarantees that everything would work out well and they were what Oliver needed most.
“I'm sorry,” he said, “I can't. I want to but it's all too much...”
“Please try harder and don't give up yet,” she begged him, “Don't be scared about something bad happening.”
“Nothing’s ever made me think that it won't.”
The girl sighed and it very nearly broke Oliver's heart.
“Is this going to be goodbye then?” she asked.
“I don't know... It could be.”
“But I don't want to say goodbye.”
“Nor do I.”
The girl held his hand and said, “Then let's just lie here and hope we never wake up.”
Upon the stones and earth, they held on to each other as they travelled back: onto the shiny floor of the high school corridor, among the bluebells in the wood, and in the field of golden wheat, beneath a sky of concrete that could have fallen at any time.
They didn’t move but Oliver heard her sweet voice, speaking words he didn’t know but was still able to recognise:
“So, we'll go no more a roving so late into the night, Though the heart be still as loving and the moon be still as bright. For the sword outwears its sheath and the soul wears out the breast, and the heart must pause to breathe and love itself have rest. Though the night was made for loving and the day returns too soon, yet we'll go no more a roving by the light of the moon.”
8.
The next thing Oliver knew, he was lying on a tarmac path beside a multi-storey car park.
“This is where we met,” he said.
The girl shifted the weight of her body, loosening her grip on him and they both sat up.
“I still don't want to say goodbye,” she told him, “Even though I think I ought to.”
Her mouth formed the shapes but no words followed and instead she cried. Then she wiped the tears away and took a single deep breath; holding onto the dream as it collapsed around her.
“Do you really need another prompt?” she asked him and was gone.