He understood himself here in the safe-bubble the therapist had created. He felt no judgment.
‘You’re feeling lost?’
‘Yeah… I am.’ He quietly cried. She waited patiently and placed a box of tissues on the nearby desk.
The room was too clinical; a spare room in the surgery, full of doctors’ tools and posters. Cold and unwelcoming, but Nick was referred for therapy free on the NHS so he couldn’t exactly complain.
When he was originally referred, he told his doctor, ‘I’ve been crying frequently, at least once a week for a long time now.’ He was glad it never led to officially being diagnosed as depressed, but he was more pleased that he was taken seriously and sent on for therapy.
He stopped crying. He’d become accustomed to shedding tears in front of his therapist, though overall he was upset less frequently nowadays. It was a steady climb.
‘I feel a bit better now. I don’t really know what else to say about it. I’m going to see how this week goes really.’ He grabbed a tissue and dabbed his eyes.
Having cleared some emotional baggage, his mind went on a tangent… If his therapist was his age, he would probably have found her attractive and the session so wouldn’t work.
She was nearing fifty, looked fit as a fiddle, good teeth, excellent figure, and Nick doubted that her blonde hair had even thought of greying. She had a genuine aura about her; each facial expression was puppeted by real emotions, not by a need for approval. Her name was Caroline. Nicolas and Caroline Crystan… hmm…
‘How are things with your father?’ she asked without preamble. He shook away the odd thoughts.
‘Same as always really. He’s not changed much for the past eight years and it’s still awkward around him.’
‘Do you think he knows how awkward you feel?’
‘I doubt it, it’s like he’s on pause or something. It’s been so long now that I can’t imagine opening up to him.’
‘What if you did talk to him about it?’
‘I just don’t know. I don’t want to lay out my feelings if he’s never going to come out of his own little bubble. It would be even more awkward if I did.’
She nodded and asked, ‘But is it a risk worth taking?’
He thought about it. He remembered when his dad was different to how he was now: he was chatty, he smiled more, laughed more. But that was all before Nick’s mother disappeared eight years ago.
He was sixteen when it happened, and his brothers were only ten. She simply wasn’t home when they got back from school. They waited and waited for her to return but it appeared that she’d withdrawn a few thousand pounds the same day that she vanished. Her car was missing too.
As far as anyone could tell, she’d gone off and started a new life. Lansin Island was in the Celtic Sea, fifteen miles off the coast of Bude in Cornwall, so it would have been easy to get a ferry from Amiton across to Bude, the same as the tourists did. She could have caught a ferry to Cornwall, and then who knows where she went from there?
Nick sure as hell didn’t know.
He didn’t want to think about it anymore. All he knew was that she left with the worst possible timing. It was hard enough being a teenager as it was, but with his dad’s birthday only a couple of weeks after she vanished, it was too cruel.
‘Maybe it’s worth the risk… I’ll have to think some more.’ Once the therapy session was over, he headed home lighter and more able to think clearly.
He spent that evening wrapped under a warm blanket, watching the film Big Fish that his brother, Tom, had lent him. Tom let him borrow it knowing that he was fond of Tim Burton’s work but hadn’t got around to this one yet.
Nick had two brothers, Tom and Tommy. They were twins and both eighteen years of age. Their names could be confusing to other people, but Nick had always been able to tell them apart. Their parents weren’t expecting twins. They’d decided that if the baby was a girl then her name would be Sarah, and if a boy, it would be Thomas. So with the surprise of two baby boys, they settled on Tom and Tommy Crystan.
Like a lot of twins, their relationship with each other was strong. They seemed to have the same hobbies, interests, taste in clothes and even the same taste in women. Tommy had always been the centre of attention; he picked the trends and Tom followed.
Nick didn’t expect Tom to like this kind of film. He’d thought of his brothers as ‘mainstreamers’ who jumped on every bandwagon. He loved them both, but until now he’d assumed they were not just physically twins, but also mind-twins with personalities that reached as far as the local pub.
The blanket wasn’t so warm after all. It was old, tatty and had lost its body, but Nick enjoyed the film and was moved by the emotional ending.
It crossed his mind that if someone described to him a twenty four year old guy snuggled up to himself and watching a film alone, he would think they were a right loser. And on that thought, he called it a night.
The next morning he looked in the mirror before leaving for work. He checked his hair, he was one of those lucky guys with hair that looked naturally rough and styled, so apart from washing it; it needed no extra attention.
People had told him he was good looking before, but he always brushed it off. It wasn’t something he liked to think about. He wasn’t self-conscious but he didn’t like accepting compliments. Most clothes suited him, weight wasn’t an issue and acne had never come knocking.
Feeling mostly satisfied with his reflection, he left for work.
For late October, the weather was pleasant; it wasn’t cold, just cool, damp and fresh. Cold and drizzly rain was the default on Lansin Island, but today was looking up.
He parked his car outside of town and started walking towards Creaky Crystals. Weather permitting, he wore a thin jacket over an olive green T-shirt, and below he had on dark jeans. Black winklepickers were his usual choice of footwear.
In the lower grounds a red-headed girl spun circles in the nearby fountain and fell into his path. He stopped still, his stomach tightened, he came over queasy. His sudden stop caused the girl to bump into him.
He had to rationalise for a second. The girl ran over to her mother who was setting up a stall. He’d probably seen that girl here with her mother loads of times; it was only a coincidence.
He scanned the stores around him, searching for one in particular. As he found it, he caught the eyes of a lady re-arranging her shop display. She gave him a friendly nod. He awkwardly nodded back. He turned dizzy but he forced himself to focus.
Another detail came to mind and he looked to the front of Creaky Crystals.
The seagull was there; it stared at him.
His instincts took control, he knew he had to act quickly; he ran for the steps that lead to the upper grounds and ascended them, regretting his choice of footwear. His legs ached as he reached the top. He heard the car screeching and saw it try to swerve a little business stall, but it failed.
The impact flipped the car. It rolled high speed, heading for the woman. The noises were deafening but he couldn’t stop to cover his ears. He grabbed the woman and spun her away from the vehicle with such force that they almost toppled over the ledge to the lower grounds.
The car slammed into the low wall, only inches away from them and came to a stop. Fortunately the car didn’t go over the side. There was a man inside the upturned car, he looked unconscious and blood dripped from his head. The cry of police sirens drew closer.
Nick realised how hard his grip on the woman was, and with that realisation came another. She wasn’t dead. I saved her.
‘Sorry,’ he said, then let go of her. He looked at her oval face, trying to catch her eyes. They were cerulean blue, but she didn’t look back at him. Her hair was blonde and rested on her shoulders, slightly dishevelled from the incident. She was almost as tall as him, with a slim figure… a great figure.
‘No, it’s fine,’ she let out a heavy breath, seemingly startled, ‘I’ve got to go.’ She turned without another word and headed away
from the scene. What if the police wanted a statement from her?
He didn’t know what to do. The woman hurried out of sight. Nick pulled himself together and called for an ambulance. Moments later a police car pulled up. Nick moved away from the wall and the crumpled vehicle.
Even with all the commotion, only three things were on his mind. One: The woman he saved was gorgeous. Two: He’d had a real premonition and saved some one’s life. And three: She didn’t even say thank you to him for saving her!
Chapter 2
The car flipped and rolled, heading straight for her. She knew in that moment that there was no way out of it. Air thumped out of her chest. Pain engulfed her, almost numbing. The impact flung her over the edge. She heard the speed of her decent, the swish on the way down. Her mind writhed in pure terror as she met the street below.
But that didn’t happen, did it? She opened her eyes, and a dark-haired guy gripped her tightly. What just happened?
She felt herself go over the side and fall… to her death. So why was she here, alive? She saw herself die; it didn’t make sense.
‘Sorry,’ the man gripping her said.
Maybe I’m disorientated or in shock? It must be that. She felt different and she knew it. Altered on a deep level, as if all the cells in her body had changed; like she was zinging with a new kind of energy. She was there but also wasn’t there.
The wrecked car laid metres away from her. She blankly stared at it then glanced over the edge at the sheer drop. Her face buckled and she cringed; it was all too much to take in. She wanted to get away from the confusion.
‘No, it’s fine,’ she said, releasing a breath she’d held prisoner, ‘I’ve got to go.’ She hurried away from the scene and the man who’d been holding her.
Once out of sight, she stopped in an alley to catch her breath. She examined herself, checking for marks or cuts but she found nothing. The man had grabbed her so hard that her arms were sore; they were surely going to bruise. She reached one hand up to her head and touched her skull. I felt myself hit the ground.
Did the dark-haired gentlemen save her? She couldn’t remember. All she recalled was slamming into the grim cobbles of the lower grounds, but then she was in his arms. It was difficult to even bring his face to mind. She shook her head and started walking again.
Heading towards the bus station, she took out her mobile with an unsteady hand. Her body shook but she managed to search through the contacts. She found Kim and pressed the call button.
‘Hey, Juliet, I’ll be in town soon. I can’t wait to see you!’ a voice on the other end squeaked.
‘I’m heading back to Chanton, I‘m not feeling well.’
‘What? What’s wrong with you?’
‘I feel dizzy. I have a head ache… I’m just not in the mood to shop anymore.’ Juliet lied, but she didn’t want to mention the near miss she’d just had. It all seemed a bit blurry now anyway, she wasn’t sure what had actually happened. She detested lying, but if she told her best friend that she was almost hit by a car, then their conversation would go on for way too long.
‘I never get to see you, as if you’re just going to blow me off like this?’ Kim sounded understandably annoyed.
‘I’m sorry, Kim, but I’m going home. We’ll go shopping soon?’
‘Alright, but you owe me for this,’ Kim mixed up a laugh and a sigh, ‘You’re lucky because I was running late anyway, I haven’t even left my house.’ she laughed some more and said, ‘Call me when you’re feeling better then, love you lots, bye.’
‘See you, love you.’ Juliet hung up. By now she was waiting for the bus back to Chanton to arrive.
While she waited, she tried to collect her thoughts. She noticed that her hands were shaking and her shoulders were brought up high and tense. She closed her eyes for a moment and let the worry dissolve out of her body. I’m okay, the car didn’t hit me.
She looked around the bus station; the place had never impressed her. It looked tawdry, cheap and contemporary: completely clashing with the rest of Amiton town centre, a predominantly Victorian style town with hints of modern concrete buildings.
The lower grounds were over-run by supermarkets and general stores used by the locals, offering nothing much for the tourists. The upper grounds were completely different with a wide range of tourist shops, restaurants, typical high-street brands and a bustling market place.
Although Juliet felt that the high-street stores took away from the character of Amiton, she could ignore that, only because she needed somewhere to shop on Lansin Island. She loved travelling to London or Birmingham to shop when she could, but she found it a nuisance to do often. And anyway, Amiton had a few designer shops blended into the architecture, and although their range of stock wasn’t extensive, it could have been worse.
The bus back was quieter than on the way. It passed through the outskirts of Amiton, towards the north of the island.
The houses on the outskirts were mostly modern builds with a few tiny thatched cottages which could be found dotted across the island as primitive farmhouses. After leaving Amiton, the bus route took narrow roads through open fields and over modest hills.
Juliet had begun to relax by now; she breathed steadily, sunk her posture and soaked up the autumn, looking at groups of auburn-leaved trees.
A flicker appeared in the corner of her right eye. She turned to look out the bus window; nothing was there.
There was a feeling of disconnection in her body; she couldn’t understand it, it was like she wasn’t entirely herself, but instead, she was a part of everything around her; she was part of the bus, the trees, the fields and even a part of each person sat near her. Was it a sense of disconnection or did she feel more connected all of a sudden?
These sensations were new to her, and trying to decipher them proved frustratingly futile. She looked across to a small farmhouse the bus was passing, and in a window, she thought she saw a figure. A dark blur that materialised and swiftly dematerialised.
She wasn’t sure if she even saw it at all now.
She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to dispel the ferly happenings. What she was seeing simply couldn’t be.
It’s just stress like from witnessing trauma, she rationalised. The bus pulled into Chanton. Juliet walked off unsteadily and titubant in her state of worry. She was home within a few more minutes and into her bed to rest her mind. Sleep engulfed her instantly.
A few hours later, she awoke. The morning was gone, wasted, and she began to pace back and forth. She dug into her mind. Hmmm, something to do, something to do…
Her body distracted her attention; something was not right, she felt like an empty bottle. It didn’t make sense. She stared at her hands but they looked like paws, impersonal and unoccupied. This body wasn’t hers. It couldn’t be.
Breathing through her nose, she observed her senses. The sense of smell was as keen as always, but it was distant, not hers to own. For sight, it was like watching from afar.
She decided to go jogging. The mix of fresh air and exercise would bring back her kinship with her physical body. As she ran and her feet connected with the floor, there was no longer the heavy ache and thud of exercise. Instead, she felt lighter, uninvolved.
The air that used to caress her skin seemed to pass through her completely now. She could still feel it gently press against her, but it was wrong in an unknown way. What is happening to me?
With a return home, she decided to ignore the sensations. Her senses would return to normal of their own accord.
She walked to the downstairs living room in search of her laptop. On the mantelshelf above the fireplace were some pictures. Two were of her mother and father together, two were shots of them separately, and in the centre was a photo of her grandmother.
Her grandmother had died when Juliet was thirteen, and Juliet’s parents now lived in Marbella, Spain. She picked up the picture of her grandmother. She held it lovingly and imagined what her gran would have done if she’d told
her about the near miss this morning. She would have held her so tight and kissed at her cheeks repeatedly. Juliet could almost feel her embrace.
Juliet’s parents were all she had now. Her grandparents on her father’s side died before she was born and so did her grandfather on her mother’s side. She had no aunts or uncles on her mother’s branch but on her father’s she had three uncles and one aunt. They were all distant and she never saw them. If she had cousins she didn’t know who they were. For some reason her father wasn’t interested in them and refused to talk about it.
Besides her parents, the only person she had ever considered as family was her grandmother on her mother’s side. The lady in the frame.
She had a beautiful and genuine smile. Perfectly photogenic, and even through the picture, Juliet could see her gran the way she remembered her: a sweet, gentle and selfless women. Juliet closed her eyes hard and wished that her grandmother was alive and here today.
Putting the photo back down, she remembered that her laptop was in the upstairs living room, so she jogged upstairs. She switched it on and did some online shopping.
Afterwards, she filled out her planner for the upcoming week, making certain to add specifics and details so that no time would be wasted when it came to each task. Then she found herself bored.
What to do next? She thought of the new starter at her café. Some training needed addressing.
There was no point in dwelling on the car accident or her strange hallucinations from earlier. How would that help her achieve anything? So she impatiently changed outfit then walked to her café, Chanton Hillview.
As she stepped inside, a fusion of savoury and sweet scents welcomed her. It was like opening the door of a fridge crammed with fresh food; the smell soaked the air. The sounds of the café rated below the fragrance: chinking of cutlery, muffled exchanges, and the gurgling coffee-machine. Juliet’s senses were sharp as normal, but there was still that remote feeling. She smiled at a few regular customers but scooted along to avoid pointless chit-chat. Her team of staff weren’t too surprised to see her and went about their work nonchalantly.
A Death Displaced Page 2