by S. C. Ransom
There was no response. Not wanting to give up I tried again but still there was no sign of movement through the frosted-glass glass windows. I bent down to the letter box and pressed it gently. Squeaking in protest it opened and I peered into the hall. It was fairly dark inside, but there was some illumination from the picture window at the rear. I let my eyes adjust to the light. The hall and room behind were tidy but bland, with no sign of occupation, no suitcases stacked by the door. We were too late.
I couldn’t believe it. After all the effort of tracking her down and getting to Cornwall, we had missed her. I had no clue where to start looking next, and I could feel the tears of frustration suddenly pricking my eyes. I peered through the letter box again; not really in any expectation that something might have changed, I just didn’t know what else to do. The hall remained dark and empty. I was just straightening up when I heard Grace behind me, her voice strangely harsh.
“I’d drop that if I was you, or I might be forced to hurt you.”
I spun round. Grace was standing at the end of the path, her fists clenched tight. Standing between us was Catherine, a long wooden post in her hands, making ready to swing it at my head.
“So you brought reinforcements this time,” Catherine said, feigning boredom as she lowered the weapon slightly. “Didn’t feel you could manage me on your own then?”
“You do have form for not playing fair,” I said, pointing at the post. “Would you mind?”
Catherine tossed the post to the side of the path. “Suit yourself.” She crossed her arms and stood looking down her nose at me. Neither Grace nor I said a word as we all wondered who would crack first. The uneasy stand-off lasted for a couple of long minutes and I realised it was going to have to be me. It was me who was going to be asking the favour, so however much I hated the idea I had to speak.
“Rob told us where you were.”
“So?”
“But he has no idea who you are. All his memory of you has been wiped.”
“So?” she repeated.
“So your little plan of making a lot of money by outing the Dirges to the papers failed. He’s forgotten everything.”
She gave the smallest of twitches of the head. “Huh. And how did that happen, I wonder?”
“Lucas took his memories of you, and your evil plan, and left him for dead.”
The bored look was back and she kept silent.
“Look, Catherine, I know you can’t stand me, even if I don’t know why. But I need to ask you for a favour. You’re the only one who can help the Dirges.”
Her laugh was sudden and brutal, and I could see Grace readying herself to wade in if Catherine suddenly turned on me again. “You want a favour from me? That’s rich!”
“It’s not for me, it’s for them; your old friends and family. Don’t you want to help them?”
“You are a triumph of hope over experience, you know that? What makes you think I care about any of them?”
“Because Callum is your brother, and in some life you might have loved him!”
“Ah, sweetie, you’ve read me all wrong again. I hate Callum nearly as much as I hate you. You make a perfect pair.”
“But there’s no point in behaving like this, Catherine. You have absolutely nothing to gain by refusing to help and they have everything to lose.” I could feel my voice rising in anger.
“I don’t need to gain anything: I’m just not going to do it.”
“Why would you condemn them to an eternity of misery when you could bring them back to life? Why?” I took a step closer, the words coming fast and furious, my hands curled into tight fists.
“Oh, that’s easy.” She paused, infuriating me even more.
“And…?” I hissed.
“Because neither you nor Callum deserve to be happy, that’s why. The rest I couldn’t care less about anyway.”
“But—”
“Alex.” Grace’s firm voice interrupted me. “Alex, I don’t think you’re going to get anywhere like this. Let’s back off a little.”
“Oh, the strong silent one actually speaks,” said Catherine in a voice dripping with sarcasm. “And speaks a bit of sense too.”
“Look, Catherine, I know that you don’t know me, and that you have no reason to listen to me, but can’t we at least discuss this like adults?” Grace was trying to keep her voice even.
“Actually, I know everything about you, Grace. I know that it was you who shut the kitten’s tail in the door and who spilled nail varnish on Issy’s bedroom carpet. Your favourite cuddly toy is called Whiskers and you once faked an injury so you wouldn’t have to compete in a gymnastics competition that your mum wanted you to enter. Shall I continue?”
Grace was staring at her, open-mouthed.
“The kitten and the nail varnish were accidents,” I pointed out. “You know that too.”
“True,” said Catherine with a snide grin. “But it sounds better like that.”
“How … how do you know all that?” Grace had recovered her voice and looked as if she was about to take up her fighting stance again.
“She has all my memories, remember?” I explained. “Everything I know about you, every detail, it’s all in her head too.”
“Unfortunately true. And such childish drivel, all of it. Mind you,” Catherine paused for a second whilst she looked Grace up and down, her eyebrow raised, “you’re a bit feistier than I was expecting. Alex seems to think you’re a complete wimp.”
I couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath in indignation, but before I could speak Grace cut in. “If you think that I’m going to believe that then you’ve learned nothing from Alex’s memories. Nothing.”
“Really? Don’t you want to hear about what Alex thinks of the lovely Jack? I was thinking about dropping you a little note so that you got a clearer picture. I wouldn’t leave the two of them alone if I were you. She really can’t be trusted. She’s been lusting after Jack for years, and can’t wait to make a play for him.” Catherine’s smug smile was evident in the dim orange glow of the streetlamps, which had just come on. I could feel the rage building in me. How dare she try and turn my best friend against me! I was just about to launch into a tirade when Grace snorted with laughter.
“Oh, Catherine, that’s brilliant! I didn’t realise you were a comedian.” She shook her head, smiling to herself.
For the first time Catherine looked nonplussed and didn’t have an instant, sarcastic retort. Grace took the opportunity to continue. “You see, you might have Alex’s memories, but you don’t – evidently – have her emotional understanding.” I looked at Grace in surprise as she continued. “You don’t seem to grasp that best friends – real, proper best friends – would never even think of doing that.”
“Really.” Catherine’s sarcastic retort wasn’t a question.
“Yes, really. You can’t have had a best friend, you see, Catherine, because you’d know that some things would never even cross our minds. Alex would no more hurt me than I would hurt her.” She turned to me and smiled. “Isn’t that right, hon?”
I smiled back. “Absolutely.”
Catherine’s face was tight with anger and the red cloud of her aura became even more obvious in the gloom. “Well, I hope the two of you are very happy together.” She turned back to me. “You’re going to need a friend like that as things get bad with Callum. She’ll help to keep you sane.”
“Why would things get bad with Callum?”
“Oh, come on! You’ll get fed up with him soon enough. He’s only in the mirror! What good is that to you? I know what you want, remember. I’ve got your memories. Are you really going to go through university with a secret ghostly boyfriend? Are you going to abandon all thoughts of one day having a proper relationship with someone? Getting married? Having kids?”
“Steady on! I’m only seventeen; I’ve no intention of getting married.”
“And you never will, not with Callum. He’ll always be there in the background, making you feel guilty. E
ventually you’ll start to resent him. You’ll meet some fantastic bloke and think, you know, time to dump Callum and get on with life. But you won’t be able to. He’ll be there, watching, forever. Every single thing you ever do, he’ll be there. Even if you did try to live without him, and manage to get rid of the amulet without one of the others killing you, every day you’ll wonder if he’s standing broken-hearted in the corner of the room, watching your every move.”
As she spoke, the cold hard truth of what she was saying wrapped around my heart like icy fingers. There was absolutely no way I could hurt Callum like that, and that made my mission even more vital.
“That’s why I need your help,” I said quietly, looking her in the eyes. “I’ll beg if I need to. You know how to bring them over, to make them alive again. Help me, Catherine, please.”
She looked at me for a long moment, then glanced towards Grace. “Is she having a laugh?”
“I’m not joking, honestly. I want your help. You’re the only person who can bring them back to life.”
Catherine stood back, arms folded. “Why do you think I can do that?”
“Veronica told me.”
“Ahh, of course. Good old geriatric Veronica. She found me pretty sharpish. I guess it’s no surprise that she found you too.”
“So you know, you understand. It has to be you.”
“No, it doesn’t. She can do it too.”
I swallowed hard before I continued. “She doesn’t have the energy any more. She can only release them so that they all die. Only you can help them to live again.”
Her laughter rang out into the still evening. “Perfect! You’ve made my day. So you have to choose between killing my beloved brother or leaving him to pine after you for all eternity. I couldn’t have organised that better myself!”
“Or you can let them live,” I added quietly.
“Have you not been listening to a single word I’ve said? I’ve no intention of doing that. You’re on your own, sweetie.”
Grace couldn’t stand by any longer. “Look, I’m sure it’s not that hard. We’ll do all we can to help you.”
“It’s like talking to Tweedledum and Tweedledee,” Catherine muttered under her breath before turning towards Grace and stabbing a red-tipped finger at her face. “Listen, stupid. I’m not going to do it. I know that I can, I just don’t want to. They can all rot over there forever as far as I’m concerned.”
The hate and anger was seeping out of her and I still didn’t know why. It was time to find out, and to see if that gave me the leverage to change her mind. I stepped towards her, my hands up in front of me to try and calm her down.
“OK, you’ve made your feelings crystal clear. But I do have another question to ask. That night in the alley behind the pub, you said that there were two things you wanted to tell me. One was how the Dirges could escape, the other was why you hated me so much.”
“And then your little friend Olivia stole my memories from me,” she snarled.
“Exactly. And I can understand why you are so cross. But then when we were at the train station, when I was chasing Rob and you were coming down here, you said that you had written down everything, that it wasn’t lost after all.” I tried not to see the loathing in her eyes and pressed on. I had to try. “So tell me, why do you hate me so? What did I ever do to you?”
A small smile suddenly played around her lips, and for a second she looked the beauty that she could be and not a bitter and twisted lonely woman. “Do you know, I might show you the notes I wrote to myself. It could be quite entertaining. You’d better come in.”
Grace and I exchanged uncomprehending looks. What was going on? “Sure,” I said quickly, motioning Grace to stay close as I stepped towards the door. Catherine went to a little grey box on the wall of the house and punched in a code. With a click the lid of the box popped open and she took out the key that was inside, then used it to get into the house. She walked straight in, ignoring us. With another glance Grace and I followed behind, shutting the door as we went. Catherine walked directly into the kitchen and flicked on the lights. All three of us flinched in the sudden glare of the halogen spotlights. It had got pretty dark while we had been arguing outside.
With a single sweeping movement Catherine scooped up a small wheelie bag. It obviously contained just as little stuff as it had when I had seen her on North Sheen station. Flipping it on to the kitchen table she deftly unzipped it and pulled out a small over-the-shoulder bag. There was little else in the suitcase: a few items of clothing, what looked like a small sponge bag and a sunglasses case.
She undid the clasp on the bag and pulled out a wad of folded paper. I felt my palms go sweaty as I watched. Part of me wanted to run away, to never find out what was written on that harmless-looking page, but I knew that I needed to know. I suddenly felt quite sick and wished we were back outside in the fresh seaside air.
Catherine obviously sensed my discomfort. “Are you sure you want to know?” she asked in a taunting voice. “I mean, this was something I knew would bring your cosy little world crashing around your ears.” She dangled the piece of paper from her long scarlet fingernails.
I was rooted to the spot. Faced with knowing what it was, did I really want to? But in the fraction of a second I stood there, Grace took control. She whisked the paper out of Catherine’s fingers and scanned it quickly, a frown forming as she read.
“She’s playing with us,” she finally said, dismissively. “This can’t hurt you.” She held out the paper towards me and I forced myself to move, hoping as I took it that the shaking of my hand wasn’t too obvious to Catherine. Grace caught my eye. “It’s fine, honestly,” she said in an undertone.
It was a single sheet of A4 paper, white and lined, and it looked as if it had been torn out of a spiral-bound notebook. There was a title on the top of the page, which was underlined three times, and underneath, in surprisingly childish writing, was a shopping list.
I looked up, momentarily speechless. “What on earth is this?” I managed finally. “Where’s the real list?”
“You didn’t think I was telling the truth at the station, did you?” She paused to look at my gobsmacked face. “Ahh, you did! Shame.”
Above Catherine’s head a small bright-yellow light danced. “Oh, it was worthwhile having to talk to you two losers for so long just to see the fear on your face! So now you know what I know – nothing. Everything got sucked up by Olivia. And actually, I don’t care. All I need to know is that you did something and that I hate you for it. Simple, really.”
I felt my knees begin to buckle, and quickly sank into the nearest chair, burying my head in my hands. None of this was any good at all; none of it was getting me any closer to my goal of persuading Catherine to help, to rescuing Callum from a life of misery. There had to be some way of making her cooperate, some nerve I could touch. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and waited for inspiration. What leverage could I possibly use? What did I have that she wanted? I knew that she wanted the amulet, but she also knew I would never, ever, give it up, so it was pointless to try for that. There had to be something else. And finally it came to me.
“Money. You don’t have enough money, no identity and nowhere to go. How much will it cost to get you to help us?”
The smile was back on Catherine’s face. “Now you’re talking sense,” she said, pulling up a chair on the other side of the table and resting her chin on her clasped hands. “Time to negotiate.”
Catherine had stolen the contents of my bank account a few weeks previously but the bank had quickly replaced the money, so I still had something to do a deal with. It wasn’t a fortune and I hoped it would be enough to buy her off. It was mentally draining thrashing out a deal; negotiating was hard when she knew exactly what I had in the bank and I could see instantly if she was getting what she wanted. She also knew that I couldn’t afford to lose, that eventually I’d give in and agree, just to make sure I could get Callum over. We were getting nowhere until Grace offered
to stump up some of her savings, and finally we were done. Grace and I were exhausted, the long drive and emotion of the evening taking its toll. Grace then pulled a masterstroke and persuaded Catherine to agree to let us camp down in one of the bedrooms for the night, and I sank thankfully on to the bed. There was only a scratchy blanket each but we were beyond caring, and as I shut my eyes I had a sudden vision of seeing Callum properly; of pulling him out of the river and into my arms; of holding him tight. It was going to be all right.
I woke with a start in the morning, and for a moment was completely confused about where I was. Grace was still motionless under the blanket on the other bed, so I picked up my shoes and crept out of the room, leaving her to sleep.
Downstairs the house was deserted, but the kettle was warm and the back door was open. In the twilight the night before I hadn’t really noticed how close the sea was to the little row of houses. At the end of every garden was a small gate, then a small, gorse-covered slope. I could hear the crashing of waves coming from somewhere beyond it. Shutting the kitchen door carefully behind me I walked down the garden and on to the dewy heath-land beyond. Within minutes my Converse were drenched, but the sun was already beginning to warm everything. They would dry soon enough.
I followed a narrow path through the gorse up to the top of the slope, and gasped in wonder at the panorama that opened up in front of me. The small rise I was standing on sloped away sharply towards a gravel path, beyond which were rocks and a faint haze of sea spray. The sea was a dark blue, with several big ships on the far horizon. To the left I could just see the land on the other side of the estuary by Padstow, but on the right the ground rose slightly so I couldn’t see the town or beaches of Polzeath. On the highest point a figure was standing alone, looking out across the water, and even from that distance I could see the cloak of purple mist that enveloped Catherine. I had never seen anything like it before. She had been miserable before, of course, but nothing on that scale. A shiver ran down my back as I realised that she was standing on a cliff edge. Was that the aura of someone about to jump? My walk turned into a sprint as I raced towards her. I couldn’t let her die, not after what she had promised.