Misty Falls

by Joss Stirling

  ‘I can persuade—people, things: I can usually get them to do what I want.’

  ‘Excellent. So are you using it now to persuade me to be very proud of my nephew? Because that’s what I’m feeling.’

  ‘No.’ Alex gave me a brief smile. ‘Misty here is the spanner in the works when it comes to my gift. It switches off around her.’

  ‘How interesting. So what’s your gift, Misty?’ Johan turned his pale blue eyes on me. They were a similar shape to Alex’s but without the darker ring and lashes that gave Alex’s eyes their intensity.

  ‘I’m a truth-teller and, if I lose control, people around me can’t lie. Even when I am controlling the scope of my influence over others, I can sense when someone is dishonest.’

  ‘How extraordinary.’

  ‘It’s a pain in the butt, to be honest.’

  Alex brushed a fingertip over my knuckle. ‘And there’s some deeper link between us thanks to our soulfinder bond. I’ve worked out that when she’s controlling her zone so other people aren’t affected, I still can’t lie around her. It’s as though I experience her gift in the same way she does.’

  I hadn’t realized that, I told Alex.

  It came to me last night when I couldn’t sleep. It’s why you’re my kryptonite.

  ‘So, Mr du Plessis, tell us more about yourself,’ said Tarryn. I was pleased to see that neither she nor Uriel were ready to let down all defences.

  ‘I’m an investment manager, not married and I have no children of my own, so I couldn’t be more delighted to find my nephew. But the good news is that you don’t have to take that on trust as you’ve got Misty here. What are you getting from me, young lady?’ Johan asked.

  ‘I know you are who you say you are, Mr du Plessis. Nothing you’ve said has registered as a lie.’

  ‘That clears up any doubt. How convenient. You have a very useful gift, my dear.’

  ‘I’m glad you think so. There are quite a few people who prefer to steer clear of me.’ And I was worried that in half his heart Alex was one of them.

  ‘I guess that too much truth is more than some can bear. It’s a sad world we live in.’

  My phone buzzed. Where are you? Shoot, I’d forgotten about my parents. I jumped up and grabbed my jacket. ‘I’m really sorry but I have to go. Nice meeting you, Mr du Plessis.’ I hesitated then kissed Alex’s cheek. Might as well act as if everything was OK between us until I knew for sure it wasn’t. ‘See you later after the debate.’

  Alex only looked up briefly but I could tell he was mesmerized by seeing someone who shared his family inheritance for the first time. ‘Enjoy lunch.’ His remark was offhand. I’d moved from being the centre of his attention.

  ‘It has to be better than supper at least.’

  Look out for Alex, I begged Uriel and Tarryn as I left the tea room.

  We will, promised Uriel.

  Mum and Dad were lunching at my school, catching up with my form tutor, who kept an eye on my personal life and academic progress. It was not the best idea I had ever had to be late for that meeting. I ran past the classical frontage of the Fitzwilliam Museum to my school campus just beyond. Set among fields near the Botanic Gardens, the Fens School had a beautiful location. There was something a little Harry Potterish about the buildings, though the health and safety record was way better than Hogwarts’. The classrooms had pretensions to be more like the Cambridge colleges down the road than the standard educational box of my previous schools: high ceilings, wood panelling, and fancy scrollwork plaster.

  ‘Sorry, Mrs Huddleston, sorry Mum, Dad!’ I called breathlessly as I tumbled into her office.

  ‘Where have you been, Misty?’ asked Dad. He showed no signs of an improved mood.

  ‘I saw Angel and Summer off at the station and then lost track of the time over coffee.’

  ‘I hope you remembered to sign in and out, Misty,’ said Mrs Huddleston. A fifty-something woman with a sharp fashion sense, she never missed the details in lessons or in life.

  ‘Um … ’

  ‘Go and do it now and I’ll take your parents over to the dining room. Roast dinner today.’ She sounded enthusiastic. I wasn’t a fan of school cooking but the Sunday lunch was better than most meals during the week.

  I returned to find my parents and Mrs Huddleston were already deep in conversation. I took a tray and joined the short queue. Most pupils boarded weekly so there were few of us around at the weekend. Having chosen my meal, I put my tray down next to my mum’s.

  You were with Alex? she asked.

  Yes. It was amazing, Mum: his uncle has turned up. Alex didn’t think he had any family who wanted to know him.

  You must tell me about it later.

  ‘So how is Misty doing?’ my dad was asking.

  ‘I think she’s doing very well.’ Mrs Huddleston deflated her Yorkshire pudding with her fork. ‘We know she has a bluntness to her but most pupils make allowances. The head teacher said it was similar to other behavioural conditions. Have you thought of having her assessed? There’s extra funding available to students with educational special needs.’

  Assessed? Yeah, I was assessed as having a severe case of honesty. It annoyed me that she was trying to frame it as a medical condition.

  ‘I don’t think her directness will hold Misty back.’ My mum leapt to my defence before Dad could go on one of his ‘if only she were normal’ digressions.

  Mrs Huddleston didn’t look convinced but decided against pressing her point. ‘Academically, she is managing well. She’s not in our top stream but we are still looking at a good university when she goes on to the next stage. Primary education, isn’t it, Misty?’

  ‘Yes, miss. At the moment, that’s the way I’m thinking I’ll go.’

  ‘We think she’ll make the grades she’s likely to be offered, though I understand that you are finding maths a little challenging?’

  A lot challenging. ‘I’m doing my best.’

  Mrs Huddleston patted my hand. ‘And that sums it up: Misty always does her best so we can’t ask for any more.’

  That well and truly patronized me then. ‘Thanks, Mrs Huddleston.’

  Dad sniffed. ‘There’s a new development you should be aware of, Mrs Huddleston.’

  Don’t go there, Dad.

  Too late. ‘Misty has developed a relationship with one of the visiting debaters, one of the South African team. I’m concerned that it might make her take her eye off the ball of getting good exam results. That’s what’s important these next two years, not some high school romance.’

  My mother made a noise suggesting she didn’t agree.

  ‘I’d like you to keep tabs on her, let us know if you think she’s being distracted by him.’

  ‘I am here you know, Dad,’ I said.

  ‘I know that very well. You can see that I’m not going behind your back on this, Misty.’

  Mrs Huddleston smiled indulgently at me. ‘Ah, what it is to be young and in love. Remember those years? She won’t be the only one going through the ups and downs of a relationship—I could point you in the direction of a dozen girls in her peer group who are struggling with the same issue. These relationships don’t usually last long at this stage in life—that’s not to say they don’t feel like matters of life and death to the young people involved. Please, feel free to come to me if you are upset, Misty. My door is always open.’

  She means well, my mum said.

  I know, but I don’t think I’ll be knocking on her door to tell her about being a soulfinder to someone who lives in the other hemisphere.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Huddleston. It’s a great comfort to me to know she has someone with such common sense to turn to,’ said Dad. By “common sense”, Mum and I were to understand “a non-savant”.

  I said my goodbyes to my parents in the school car park after lunch. Normally I was sad to see them go; today I felt relief.

  ‘Love to Grandma, Gale, Felicity, Peace, Sunny, and Tempest.’ I gave Dad a kiss for each one and
then hugged him, aware that for the first time in my life, we had had a serious disagreement and not resolved it before parting.

  ‘Look after yourself, darling, and keep your priorities straight. I can see you are head-over-heels with that boy but you have more important things to focus on right now.’

  I really didn’t, but as Dad meant what he said sincerely, his words did not register as a lie.

  ‘I’ll try not to disappoint you.’

  ‘This isn’t about my feelings, Misty. It’s about how you approach the next few years.’

  It was really, though. Finding my soulfinder had opened up a chasm in the family and Dad felt he was standing on one side, my mum on the other and us children on a dodgy rope bridge between the two. It made me sad for him because none of us sisters and brothers could stop walking over to the savant side, our experiences ending up so different from his.

  I offered him what comfort I could. ‘It’s early days yet, Dad. Alex and I both have a lot to sort out and neither of us wants to get in the other’s way. That’s not how it works.’

  ‘Fair enough. Well, I’ve had my say. Stay safe.’ He gave me a last kiss and got in the driver’s seat.

  Mum didn’t need words to tell me what she was thinking: her expression said it all.

  ‘I know. I’ll not be cross with Dad. I get it—I really do.’

  ‘It’s so hard for him. Perhaps I should never have … ’

  I cut her off before she could voice regrets that should stay unspoken. ‘No. This is not your fault. We’ll work it out.’

  She gave me a watery smile. ‘Don’t you sound the grown-up! I’m missing these moments of seeing you become the adult, what with you stuck all the way over here in Cambridge. I’m proud of you.’

  At least I had the satisfaction of knowing that my relationship with my mother had travelled on to a new and satisfying stage, even if that with my dad had done a swallow dive off the high board.

  ‘Thanks, Mum. Love you.’

  When they left, I felt quite desolate. I could do with a hug but Alex was rehearsing his argument for ‘This house believes that democracy is the best form of government’; he wouldn’t want me to break his concentration. I’d have to face this one alone.

  Wrong. Of course I want to give you a hug and you are most definitely not alone.

  I turned round to find Alex standing behind me. ‘What are you doing here?’ My heart did a little skip to see him.

  ‘I wanted to check you were OK. Miss Coetzee said I could come a little late to practice. She thought you’d need to see me.’ He opened his arms. ‘Hug?’

  I ran into them, feeling like I’d reached a lifeboat from a sinking ship.

  He cradled my head to his chest. ‘Bad, was it? I waited until they left before coming out of hiding but I saw that you were still talking to them.’

  ‘Mum’s fine. Good, in fact. Dad’s … not. He’s put my form tutor on red alert about you.’

  ‘Uh-oh. Does that mean I’m banned?’ Like that would stop him, his tone suggested.

  I flexed my fingers, feeling the soft wool of his jumper under his open jacket. ‘No, nothing like that. Just don’t be surprised if a Mrs Huddleston takes an interest in you.’

  ‘I think I’ll cope. After all, being charming is my strong point.’ He smiled at my roll of the eyes.

  I reminded myself that mine was not the only family drama today. ‘How did it go with your uncle?’

  Alex rubbed his knuckles down my spine in a light massage. I had an odd desire to purr. ‘Really well, thanks. I can’t tell you how lucky I’m feeling right now, what with finding you and then him turning up. Johan had a business meeting in Leeds but he’s going to come back the day after tomorrow. He’ll be here for the final if we get that far.’

  ‘It must be strange for you.’

  ‘Very. I look at him and I guess I’m catching glimpses of how my father must be. Johan says they look alike.’

  I was relieved he wanted to share this with me. ‘Did he say if any others in your family had a savant gift?’

  ‘A grandmother definitely, and he suspected his own mother did but hid it because his father was violently opposed. He says that’s where my father, Roger, got his attitude. That part of the family belong to a very strict sect that think savant powers have to be the devil’s work. They couldn’t deal with the idea that their own flesh and blood could turn out that way so they cut us off.’

  ‘That’s so sad.’

  ‘But now we’ve met, so maybe he and I can start a new trend for the du Plessis family.’

  I smiled, trying to ignore the sense that I was excluded from this new development in Alex’s life. He was very optimistic about building a new family on the strength of one meeting. I hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed. ‘I’m sure you’ll do your best.’

  ‘Can I see you later, after the debate?’

  Lessons again tomorrow and I had heaps of work to finish. ‘I’d love to but I have to study.’

  ‘I can help.’ His eyes twinkled. I didn’t think I’d get much done if he was around but he was irresistible.

  ‘OK, come say goodnight later. I’ll be in the library. They won’t let you up to my room that late.’

  He traced a finger down the side of my neck, causing shivers all the way down to my toes. ‘In case we get up to no good?’

  ‘’Fraid so.’

  ‘They know me so well.’ His fingers danced over my cheek and tapped my mouth. It was flattering to find he liked exploring my face as much as I did his.

  ‘Good luck tonight. I really wish I could be there.’

  ‘I’ll contact you as soon as we hear the result.’

  ‘OK.’ Reluctantly, I released my hold on his sweater. I’d be quite happy living in his pocket, but I had to be careful I didn’t come across as clingy. I’d seen other girls do that and drive off boyfriends like they had a case of the plague. I so wanted to get this right. ‘Later then.’

  ‘Yes, later.’

  I spent the rest of the afternoon in my room studying, but my school friends Hafsa, Tony, and Annalise dropped by so not much work got done. They were understandably curious about my whirlwind romance with the South African team captain, demanding I spill the beans. I fended off their questions by telling them about the summer, how we’d met and spent some time together doing the sights. I let them draw their own (wrong) conclusions as to how the way had been prepared for Friday night. They didn’t ask me if Alex had already asked me out in Cape Town—I let it hang there, a faint tingle of a fib, that he might’ve done—which meant no lie crisis interrupted them making sense of our rapid closeness.

  After supper, I decamped to the library as my friends went off to the debate. They protested that I should support my guy but I muttered something about nerves. I didn’t explain it was Alex who was unnerved by my presence, not me. Sitting in the study cubicle, I attempted to be diligent and not to watch the clock. My geography homework on population and migration refused to cross the border checkpoint at my brain. I flipped the pages, underlining things in a variety of colourful highlighters, but don’t ask me what. As the evening progressed, the other students drifted off, leaving me the only person in the cavernous room and, to be frank, it was a bit spooky as half the lights were off to conserve power. I would have preferred to head back to my room but I’d promised Alex to meet him here. I began to notice how the building had its own soundtrack of clicks and creaks as the pipes expanded and contracted with the central heating cycles. The unwelcome thought came to me that libraries are perfectly adapted to serial killers as there are loads of places to hide and stalk your prey. And ghosts. Surely an old building like this must have a couple? I could just imagine them floating along the history section, turning nasty and chucking books at me.

  That’s poltergeists.

  Shouldn’t you knock before you pop up in my head? I asked. Alex was quickly developing the habit of slipping into my thoughts telepathically. I suppose his gift did still work on me because
he was adept as persuading my mind barriers to let him past without me noticing. I’d have to work out what that meant, but not now.

  Sorry. I’ll cough loudly next time. But you were having such an interesting conversation with yourself, I didn’t like to interrupt. I could feel the smile in the voice.

  So, how was it?

  We won.

  I didn’t seriously consider any other outcome.

  The Amritsar team were really good. It was close.

  My guess was that my golden boy had swung it in the favour of his team. Well done you.

  Is it still OK for me to drop by? His debate had been taking place in our school theatre over the other side of the campus across the rugby pitch. He didn’t have that far to come and find me.

  I’m waiting up for you while trying to battle population statistics. They are winning. Come and rescue me.

  Estimating he was about two minutes away, I got out a compact mirror to check I’d not done something Misty-ish, like scrawled on my nose with biro (it has been known as I chew pen tops and don’t always remember which way round I’m holding them). I angled the mirror to inspect my cheek and caught a glimpse of someone behind me.

  ‘Alex, how did you … ?’

  But it wasn’t Alex. The journalist from the news conference stepped out from behind the shelf. I got the distinct impression he wouldn’t have emerged unless I had spotted him.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you.’ His voice was soft, oozing apology, but I wasn’t buying it. ‘I was looking for Alex du Plessis and I noticed he usually crops up where you happen to be.’

  My heart thumped hard like the main stairs during lesson changeover. I quickly packed my folders away, not looking at him. ‘I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here.’

  ‘No worries. I have press accreditation.’ He came up to the table. I think he was holding out his badge, or maybe asking to shake hands—I wasn’t going to make eye contact. ‘My name is Eli Davis. I work for a paper in Los Angeles.’

  ‘What I meant was that this part of the school is nothing to do with the competition. It’s private. Pupils and staff only.’

  ‘Like that matters to you.’ He laughed but I didn’t sense any genuine humour. It sounded rather bitter. ‘I’ve seen you and Alex du Plessis walk through plenty of locked doors—how do you do that, by the way? Or should I say, who does that?’ Davis picked up the textbook from which I’d been working. ‘Funny. I would have expected a spell book in a place like this.’