‘You think it’s wonderful that Ella can see you because it’s what you wanted. It’s your wish come true. That doesn’t mean it’s the best thing for her. I’m sure she’s glad to see you now, but how do you think it’s going to affect her in the long run? You’ve already got her keeping it a secret; lying to her closest living family.’
I could feel the anger rising in my chest. ‘What else am I supposed to do? If people see her talking to her dead father, they’re going to think she’s crazy.’
‘Exactly. There are good reasons why people can’t usually see the dead.’
‘So why did you tell Arth—’
Before I could finish my question, Lizzie grabbed my hand. In the blink of an eye, the world around me changed. I was somewhere else. Everything was different and yet oddly familiar.
‘What the hell’s going on?’
‘You’ll see,’ Lizzie whispered.
We were sitting on a lipstick-red leather couch. It looked much less comfortable than the navy fabric sofa I’d just slept on, although my lack of sensation meant I could only speculate. Everything in the room looked hard and functional.
‘Where are we, Lizzie?’ I growled.
She smiled calmly. ‘It’s less a question of where than when.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean? Help me out here. I only woke up a few minutes ago. Can’t you ever give me a straight answer?’
‘The answer’s all around you, Will. All you have to do is look.’
‘Fine,’ I replied like a sulky teenager, jumping to my feet.
I stormed over to the nearest window and peered through a gap in the thick vertical blinds. I gasped. Despite the darkness outside, there was no mistaking the fact I was looking at my parents’ front garden.
‘What the hell?’ I said, turning back to Lizzie and gaping wide-eyed at her.
She frowned.
‘Sorry,’ I added. ‘Bad choice of words. But come on. How …’
Words failed me as I tried to take everything in. The dimensions of the lounge were the same, but everything else was different. No wonder I’d not recognized it. Gone were my parents’ floral wallpaper, carpet, coffee table, curtains, light fittings; you name it. Even the textured ceiling had been replaced with smooth plaster and recessed spotlights. The walls were painted a light grey colour. They were bare but for the floating black hands of a stripped-back analogue clock and a large print of an American painting I’d always liked, Gas by Edward Hopper.
The floor was covered in some kind of granite-effect material and the furniture – what little there was of it – was angular and simple. The TV had been replaced by a brushed-chrome floor lamp, which stood nearly as tall as me, and the focal point now seemed to be a low glass table in front of the sofa. It was empty apart from an A4-size thin glass sheet lying in one corner. Set into the centre of the table was a silver disc about the size of a CD, which was embossed with a large ‘i’.
‘What is this thing?’ I asked. ‘There’s no way it’s just a table. Come on, Lizzie. You’ve got to give me some idea what’s going on here. I’m totally confused.’
‘I already have.’
I thought back to her earlier words: ‘It’s less a question of where than when.’
The penny finally dropped. ‘No way! Are you saying what I think you are?’
Lizzie raised her eyebrows and stared at me.
A few weeks ago I wouldn’t have believed it to be possible. But after everything that had happened to me of late, my mind had become a lot more willing to accept extraordinary things. ‘So this is—’
I was interrupted by the sound of the door swinging open and my dead wife bursting into the room.
I froze as Alice approached me.
‘There you are,’ she said, bending down to pick up the A4 glass sheet from the table.
‘Sorry?’ I replied, flustered. ‘What—’
She didn’t stop to answer me, turning and darting back out of the room.
‘Alice?’ I called after her. ‘Is that really you?’
I was about to follow her out of the lounge when Lizzie grabbed my hand. ‘She wasn’t speaking to you. Her words were meant for the object she took. And that’s not your wife, William. It’s your daughter.’
‘What? That’s Ella? But she looks just like Alice. How—’
‘She’s twenty-six years old.’
‘We’ve travelled twenty years into the future?’
‘One version of the future.’
‘And she can’t see me any more?’
‘She can’t see this version of you. That’s against the rules. You’re here strictly as a spectator. But she can still see the version of her father from her own time.’
Lizzie nodded towards the door. ‘Go and have a look.’
I took one step and then stopped. ‘Will he – I mean I, you know, the other one – be able to see me?’
Lizzie shook her head. ‘You’re safe. Go on.’
I walked into the hall and was guided towards the kitchen by the sound of voices. The other version of me – unaged and still dressed in the same frayed jeans and T-shirt, with rosy cheeks and a day’s stubble – was standing by the sink. Opposite him was the older Ella, sitting at a sleek table made of a shiny black material somewhere between plastic and metal. This room was as streamlined and functional as the lounge. The most comfortable-looking thing in there was a furry purple cushion near the back door. A large black cat was fast asleep on it.
‘So you’re not going to finish in time?’ the other me asked Ella.
‘No. I don’t think I can, Dad,’ she replied, running both her hands through her darkened long curls. ‘I’m shattered. I’ve taken too much on.’
I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She’d grown so tall and beautiful. It was unsettling how much she looked like her mother: the hair, the pale green eyes, the fair skin and delicate features. Even her voice sounded similar to Alice’s, albeit with a slight northern twang.
‘You know that I’m here to help,’ the other me said. ‘Let me know what I can do.’
Ella kept her eyes fixed on the table in front of her. ‘I don’t need your help, Dad. What I need is for you to give me some space. I know you mean well, but you’re always pushing me to take on more work. Now look what’s happened.’
‘Sorry, I forgot. I don’t have your fancy qualifications. I’m just the old newspaper hack; the dinosaur.’
‘Dad, I didn’t mean it like that. Sometimes I’m best getting on with things myself, that’s all. I don’t need you constantly on my back.’
‘It sounds like you don’t need me at all. You should watch what you say. One day you might turn around and find I’m not here any more. Then who will you have? Friends, family? I don’t think so. I’m all you’ve got. And to think of the sacrifice I made to stay here with you.’
‘Don’t be like that, Dad,’ Ella replied as the other me stormed out of the room and disappeared upstairs. I was shocked at what I’d heard. How could I say such things to her? How could I make Ella feel guilty about my choice to stay with her?
She picked up the A4 glass sheet from the kitchen table and brought it to life with a quick tap, so it displayed a glowing matrix of colours. After swiping and tapping it some more, she put it back down. To my surprise a crystal-clear hologram of a man’s head appeared from the device and started talking. ‘Miss Curtis. How can I help you?’
‘Hello, Mr Reynolds,’ Ella replied with a polite smile. ‘Sorry to interrupt your evening, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to make the deadline.’
That wasn’t the news Mr Reynolds wanted to hear. He launched into a rant that culminated in a pledge never to hire her as a contractor again. Once the call was over, Ella hunched over the table and started to cry.
It was at this point that Lizzie walked into the room. ‘Oh dear,’ she said to me. ‘What’s happened?’
‘What do you care?’
‘That’s not very nice, William.’
‘W
hy did you bring me here?’ I asked.
‘Why do you think?’
‘Here we go again. Can’t you ever give me a straight answer?’
‘You may not believe it, William, but I’m doing my utmost to help you.’ She took my arm and led me back to the lounge. ‘Do you think this version of Ella is happy with her life? Is what you see here everything you’d wish for her?’
‘She seems to be doing okay for herself,’ I said.
‘On the surface, perhaps, but do you think she’s happy?’
‘I don’t know, Lizzie. I’ve only seen a glimpse of her life and it’s all a bit of a shock, to be honest. Jumping twenty years into the future might be normal for you, but I’m finding it a lot to take in.’
Lizzie held up her palms defensively. ‘I get that. I just wanted to give you a chance to see the bigger picture.’
I looked down at the hard, dark floor beneath my feet. ‘There did seem to be a bit of friction between the two of them. What happened? How did they – we – get to this point?’
‘It’s hard to function normally when your dead father is always at your side, watching you.’
‘Surely I wasn’t there all the time. Why didn’t I give her some space?’
Lizzie shrugged.
‘Is it true what he – the other me – said about Ella not having any other family and friends?’
‘I’m afraid so. Talking to you became so normal for her that she started doing it in public without realizing. People thought she was talking to herself. You can imagine what conclusions they drew. That’s why she ended up working from home. It’s easier than ever in the twenty thirties. In fact, she barely needs to leave the house at all.’
‘Hasn’t she got a boyfriend or anything?’
‘What do you think?’
‘Where are Mum and Dad?’
‘Um, a lot can happen in two decades,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’m afraid your parents have both passed away.’
‘Oh, right,’ I replied, taken aback. ‘What about Lauren and Xander?’
‘She speaks to them from time to time – birthdays and so on – but they’re not close. Ella never really let them in.’
‘I see. And this is my fault? You’re saying it’s because of me that she’s in this situation, right?’
Lizzie reached over and took my hand. ‘What you’re witnessing here is only one possible path for you and Ella. You control your own future. It doesn’t have to turn out this way.’
As she spoke I saw the room around me change, morphing back into the living room I knew of old: the carpet, the navy sofa, the floral wallpaper. ‘Wait,’ I said. ‘Let me check she’s all right. I don’t want to leave her like that, crying in the kitchen.’
‘Shh,’ Lizzie whispered in my ear, close enough to pierce my numbness for an instant. It made me shiver. ‘Don’t worry about her. That’s not happened yet. That version of your daughter may never exist.’
‘How—’
Lizzie placed a cool palm on my forehead and I collapsed into nothingness.
CHAPTER 18
TWENTY-TWO DAYS LEFT
Ella and I were sitting in her princess castle when a shadow fell across it and I heard the muffled sound of movement on the other side.
‘What is that, Daddy?’ she asked, terror etched across her face.
I tried to reply, to reassure her, only to find that I was frozen. I couldn’t even speak as, to my horror, the presence crept around the tent, rustling here and scratching there, until it eventually stopped by the door. There was an irregular sniffing sound and then the zip started to open.
‘I’m scared,’ Ella whispered. ‘What’s happening?’
Despite my own fear, I was desperate to protect my daughter. But it was useless: I was paralysed.
‘Daddy!’ she cried. ‘Wake up!’
My eyes snapped open and I was lying on my parents’ couch, Ella standing before me. ‘Are you all right? I think you were having a nightmare.’
‘Darling,’ I replied, stunned for a moment as I shook off the false reality of my dream. ‘Thank goodness.’
‘Was it a scary one?’ Ella asked, making me wish I could pull her into a hug. ‘What was it about?’
‘Just some nonsense. I’m fine now. What time is it?’
She ran to the silver carriage clock on the mantelpiece and squinted at it. ‘Um. The little hand is on six, I think, and the big hand is almost at the top. Is that six o’clock?’
‘That sounds right, love. Well done.’
‘We’ve been practising at school. Mrs Afzal said I did a super job.’
I chuckled. ‘I’m sure she did. That’s early, though. Don’t you want to sleep some more?’
‘No. I’m wide awake. Can we do something?’
‘Are Nana and Auntie Lauren still asleep?’
‘Yep. I peeked in on them.’
‘Fine. What would you like to do?’
‘Can we play Ginger Man?’ she asked, jumping up and down on the spot.
She was referring to a video game we used to play together. That wasn’t its actual name; she’d called it that when she was younger, because she thought the main character looked like a gingerbread man, and it had stuck.
‘I wish we could,’ I replied, ‘but the console’s not set up here. Even if it was, my days of holding a controller are long gone.’
Ella pulled a sad face. ‘Not fair.’
‘Sorry, darling. I agree, but there’s nothing I can do.’
I suggested playing Connect Four instead, as long as she didn’t mind making my moves for me.
She agreed, although it was hard not to miss the disappointed look on her face.
We had fun all the same, switching to draughts when we needed a change. Our conversation was comfortably sparse, never straying far from the game at hand. And when thoughts about my trip to the future fluttered into my mind, I told myself that I might have dreamed the whole thing. That was possible, wasn’t it?
I looked over at the clock and was surprised to see it was already after 7 a.m. ‘I think we’d better call it a day, Ella. The others will be up soon. They might think it a bit odd to see you playing against yourself like this.’
‘I’m not playing against myself. I’m playing with you.’
‘Of course you are. We both know that, but it’s our secret, remember.’
‘I remember,’ she said, her voice tinged with sadness.
‘That was fun, wasn’t it?’ I said, trying to lift the conversation. ‘See. We don’t need video games to enjoy ourselves.’
‘Daddy,’ Ella said. ‘Why can’t I just tell Nana and Auntie Lauren about you? They’d be so happy if they could see you too.’
‘I know, darling, but it’s not that easy. Like I told you before, adults aren’t as good as children at understanding new things. It was hard enough for me to get through to you; it would be a thousand times harder still to do it with them. If you tell them, they’ll think you’re imagining it and they’ll worry about you.’ I hesitated before adding: ‘They might even think you’re sick and take you to a special doctor.’
‘But I thought it was wrong to lie?’
‘It is, darling, but this is … an exception. You don’t necessarily need to lie, anyway. Just don’t mention anything in the first place.’
‘Okay,’ she whispered.
‘Good girl,’ I replied with feigned assurance as her breathy one-word reply raked at my soul. How can it be right to tell my six-year-old daughter to lie for me? I thought. What kind of a parent am I?
My mind flitted back to the image of a grown-up Ella crying in her futuristic kitchen. Real, imagined, whatever it was, I could picture it as clear as day in my mind’s eye. And it haunted me. Even as I justified my actions to myself as necessary and unavoidable, that image said otherwise. It countered my argument with a simple truth: if I wasn’t still here, there would be no need for Ella to lie.
Before I had time to rein myself in – to leave my daughter out of this internal c
onflict – I heard the words falling out of my mouth. ‘You do like me being around, don’t you, darling? Even though it’s not like it was before?’
She looked at me like I was stupid. ‘Of course. Why wouldn’t I? Having you back is the best thing ever.’
I smiled at her, knowing in that moment more than ever why parents called children their pride and joy. ‘I love you so much, Ella. You know that, don’t you? You’re the best daughter in the world. Probably in the universe, although I can’t say for sure as I’ve never travelled that far.’
Ella giggled as she packed away the board games. ‘I love you too, Daddy.’
Mum came down the stairs a few minutes later. ‘Good morning, Ella. You’re up bright and early. Did you sleep well?’
‘Yes, thanks, Nana.’ Ella looked straight at me as she picked up a school book and waved it in the air. ‘I was doing a bit of reading.’
My heart sank at the deception, no matter how small.
‘Good girl,’ Mum replied. ‘Did you understand all the words?’
Ella nodded. ‘I think so.’
‘Excellent. Maybe you can read to me later to show me how good you are.’
‘Okay, Nana.’
I returned to the church and the school a couple of times over the next few days, but I made no progress in my search for Arthur. There was no sign of him. I was concerned, but other matters also demanded my attention.
There was Dad, for one, still in hospital and showing few signs of improvement beyond the regained use of his leg. There was his mystery woman, who we were no closer to unmasking. Then there was black Audi stalker man, for whom I’d been keeping my eyes peeled without any further sightings. And as if that wasn’t enough, playground bully Kaylee had been picking on Ella again.
I’d stayed away from her school recently, figuring she’d integrate better with her classmates if I wasn’t around. I hadn’t heard any more of Kaylee since our pep talk. Then one evening, out of the blue, she flew into a tantrum about her tea being ready before the end of a TV programme she was watching. She blanked me when I told her to pull herself together. I’d seen her like that before – when she was tired or upset about something – but grandparents usually escaped such behaviour. So the initial reaction from Mum, more used to spoiling Ella than standing her ground with her, was one of shock. I think she was about to back down and let Ella eat in the lounge when Lauren stepped in.
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