by Raven Taylor
For a few minutes we simply stood, panting from our exertions, I could taste a coppery taste in the back of my throat and my lungs ached from the effort.
"And my dog," she said angrily, "We lost the fucking dog."
"I'm sorry." she glared at me.
"Alright," she said at last, "We'd better go, but we need to be more careful from now. Like I said, one last big adventure."
I wished she would stop using those words.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"These where my friends," she said once we were on the train to Glasgow, she pulled a photograph out of her battered back pack and I recognised it as the one I had saw stuck to the fridge, "We were inseparable when we were younger, did everything together."
She pointed to each individual face one at a time naming them as Jane, Nikki, Barry, Travis and Lizzie.
"And that's me of course," she concluded pointing to a more youthful version of herself, "We grew up together, from a very young age, if ever any of us needed someone we could always depend on the others. I thought it would always be like that but things change."
"What happened?" I asked.
"They grew up," she said simply, "And I didn't. I was always the crazy one, the one who could never settle on anything, on one dream, one goal, anything. I didn't know what I wanted out of life, I had no plan. Sometimes I wanted to be a musician, others an artist or the first woman to play in the premier league. Always ridiculous, unobtainable things like that, never anything real. The others grew out of that, started to look at things more realistically. I never could settle, never could be happy because I didn't want the things they wanted and there's only so many times people can pick you up off the floor before it becomes too much for them."
"Hey, no smoking on here!" an annoyed voice shouted from across the isle as Ransley lit up. She stuck her middle finger up at the man in the suit and continued to puff.
"Jane went on to be a lawyer, can you believe it? Nikki, well there's another one, flight attendant. Nikki? A fucking trolley dolly. Barry works in a call centre, he got married last year. Travis also got married to the woman who owns that chain of echo friendly beauty shops, I forget what they're called, I think he just plays golf everyday now or something like that. Lizzie, well I've a little more hope for her. She went travelling around India for a while, she was gone a good few years, but she's back now from what I've heard, living in Glasgow. Hell, we have time for a stop over before we go on to Edinburgh, let's call on old Lizzie, what do you say? I think I have her address, I got it off her in a text so I could send her a christmas card."
I was anxious to get on to Edinburgh but how could I say no? I needed Ransley to get there because she was the one with the money.
"Shouldn't we let your friend know we're coming?" I asked as we got off the train at Glasgow central.
"Nah," she insisted, "she lives in the city centre, it's not far, like I say, these are good friends and with good friends it shouldn't matter if you haven't seen each other in years, you should always be able to just walk back into each others lives as if no time at all has passed and pick up where you left off."
It must be nice to have friends like that, I thought, friends you could always turn to when you needed them. I followed her through the busy streets where swarms of people struggled under the weight of their purchases from the January sales as if they had not had enough of shopping before Christmas. As we walked I was careful to take in my surroundings in the hope that I might recognise something but nothing here sent that jolt of familiarity through me and I felt certain that I had never visited this city before. After about 20 minutes of walking Ransley stopped. We had reached a small courtyard of new build houses that all jostled for space on this small piece of land beside the railway track.
"Yep," she said, pulling out her mobile phone and checking the address, "This is the place. Good for you Lizzie for not moving to the suburbs."
Lizzie's house was near the back of the courtyard and had a tiny strip of garden about two foot wide which was little more than concrete with some plant plots filled with dead flowers standing on it. There was a sign stuck in one of them that said 'Santa stop here' and Ransley poked it suspiciously with the toe of her boot as she waited for someone to answer the door. Several minutes passed before a shadow appeared behind the frosted glass and the door swung open a crack.
A pretty woman with a brown hair and a plain face answered the door. I vaguely recognised the spattering of freckles from the photo but Lizzie had changed a lot. She no longer had pink hair for a start and she was dressed very conservatively.
"Ransley?" Lizzie's voice was uncertain, not the kind of greeting I had expected after the way Ransley had talked about the groups friendship.
"Hey Lizzie, long time no see."
"Goodness, it's been ages." Lizzie managed to force a smile that seemed somehow strained to me.
"So what's been happening?"
"Ransley, I thought you were in hospital?"
"Yeah, well I got a bit fed up in there, wasn't doing me any good."
"And who's this?" she asked, giving me a curios glance.
"My new boyfriend," Ransley said sarcastically, her good mood beginning to slip as she sensed that her old friend was not too pleased to see her, "Come on Lizzie, aren't you going to let us in?"
"It's not really a good time," she said awkwardly.
"Mummy, where are the batteries, I need some for my car."
Into the hall came a small boy brandishing a toy car above his head, his skin was a dark olive colour but had the same spattering of freckles that Lizzie did.
"Wow," said Ransley, sounding a little taken aback, "Lizzie, you never even told me."
"I know, I met his dad when we were travelling. Needless to say he's not around."
"I can't believe you wouldn't tell me a thing like this, come on. What about the others; do you still keep them informed?"
"Ransley, we're not fifteen anymore," said Lizzie angrily, "There is no 'them'. Our little group broke up long ago. People move on. We all have our own lives to lead. Maybe it's time you tried getting one of your own. You only ever turn up when you're in trouble and I can't help you anymore."
"Well screw you Lizzie," Ransley shouted at her, "You always were a stuck up cow anyway."
Although she tried to pretend she didn't care I could see Ransley was hurt as we left the little courtyard and I felt sorry for her.
"It's just us now then kid," she said bitterly, "Come on."
On the way back through the city Ransley pointed out that what I urgently needed was clothes and she insisted that we had to put this right before we went on any further. She was right of course, all I had was what I stood in so I agreed to yet further delays on our journey so she could take me to the city's West End.
"What ever is waiting for you in Edinburgh will keep," she said, "I used to come into Glasgow about once a month or so with the gang for shopping, the pub, that kind of thing. I haven't been in years, I'd like to say goodbye to a few ghosts."
Why was it always this way with her? She made everything sound so final.
I did not protest however so we spent the afternoon scouring the charity shops to put together some kind of wardrobe for me. Ransley commented on the fact that all of my choices seemed to lean towards black and I discovered I had a taste for velvet and for vintage styles. She told me jokingly that now we at least knew I was a Goth and that I had the right hair and skin tone for it anyway.
After the shopping Ransley dragged me into a little pub where she preceded to knock back alcohol at a frightening rate. With each drink she consumed she seemed to grow more and more bitter towards her former friends and the cards life had dealt her.
"It's no fucking good anymore, what the hell is the point? If you can't rely on friends who can you rely on?"
I felt uneasy with her sudden change of demeanour. Gone was that out going, quirky girl to be replaced by something hateful and brooding. I did not speak. I just let her rage because I
was afraid if I said anything she might turn on me next. It was dark again by time she was done drinking and mourning all that she had lost and I was glad when she finally suggested we go back to the train station and head off to Edinburgh. That's not how it happened though. Something intervened.
We were standing on the deserted platform of the subway, waiting for the train to take us back into the centre when Ransley stooped to pick up a newspaper that was lying under one of the folding seats that where set into the wall.
"Ah, tonight's edition, perfect," she said as she started leafing through the pages. She was still drunk and swaying unsteadily as she wrestled with the pages of the paper.
I glanced up at the illuminated sign above our heads that told me the next train was due in 10 minutes. With a sigh I sat down on one of the chairs and contemplated all that had happened to me in the last few days. What would I find when we arrived in Edinburgh? Would there be somebody waiting there for me? A home and friends ready to welcome me back? If that was the case I vowed that I would never turn my back on Ransley the way her friends had done, I would do all I could to make sure she got the life she deserved. I glanced up at her, she was still reading the paper and suddenly I saw the look of horror that passed across her face.
"You're not going to believe this," she said, seeming to sober instantly, and she shoved the newspaper under my nose, "Look at this, Dr. Kingston, your psychiatrist, he's dead, he died last night."
I quickly scanned the small article that told of how Kingston had been killed in a hit and run accident shortly after 11pm last night when he had been making his way home from a late shift at Greenleaf. The police where still looking for the driver of the car that had killed him.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I heard Ransley cursing as she walked down the platform, “This looks bad. We break out of the hospital without being discharged the same night your psychiatrist is killed. Fuck!”
"It gets worse..." I swallowed hard, my airways felt restricted as though someone was squeezing them.
"What you talking about?"
From my pocket I took my notebook and handed it to her, "look at the first page."
I watched as she pulled back the old cover and let her eyes sweep over the text, over the date I had written next to Dr. Kingston's name: yesterday's date.
"What the fuck is this?" she thrust the book back into my hands, she looked terrified and angry.
"I don't know," I wailed, "It was tattooed on his wrist, I saw it in my first session."
"You're a bloody freak Winter do you know that. Shit, what am I gonna do?"
"I didn't kill him." I insisted.
“Of course you didn’t, you idiot. I know you didn't because I was with you but what are they going to think?”
“Who?”
“The police! I know how their minds work and I know they’ve got nothing on us but I cannot handle going through all the questions and shit. That's why they where at the port! Fuck!”
I watched her nervously as she paced the platform, clawing at her head in distress. Then she turned and punched the wall. I cringed. I felt terrible for bringing this down on her.
“Shit,” she said again shaking the fist she had just slammed into the wall, then I watched as she sort of folded down onto the floor and put her head in her hands, "What have I got left? No family, friends that couldn't give a shit, police on my tail about some fucking hit and run. Nah, this isn't good, not good at all. Let me see that again."
She stood up and snatched the notebook from my hands.
"Yep," she confirmed, nodding her head, "Thought so, well perhaps you are right."
I didn't know what she was talking about. My head was spinning. She threw the book back at me and I saw her glance up at the illuminated information notice. The words 'train approaching' where now flashing in neon text. The air in the tunnel had started to stir, a warm wind was whistling from the depths carrying a metallic smell of oil and machinery. I could hear it clattering on the tracks, as it grew closer. Two white lights like the eyes on a giant burrowing animal appeared round a corner in the tunnel. Ransley was pacing again, rubbing her hands together and muttering under her breath. The train was growing closer now, charging towards the platform from the dark depths and I didn't see what she meant to do until it was too late.
"Ah fuck it," Ransley shouted and she ran across the platform and threw herself over the edge.
"Ransley no!" I stared on in horror as the train bore down on her. It seemed to take an eternity to arrive while I stood there frozen on the spot. I watched it as it approached and everything was happening in slow motion. I saw the drivers face behind the glass contort into a look of horror as he realised what was happening and he slammed on the breaks. For a few agonising seconds I waited for the impact, not wanting to see it but unable to look away. Sparks flew from the trains wheels and by some miracle it screamed to a shuddering halt just centimetres from where Ransley sat in the middle of the tracks. She looked back up at me with a look that said she wouldn't be beaten.
"Goodbye Winter!" she called, and with that she raised both her hands above her head before plunging them down to her sides and fastening her fingers around the electrified bars of the tracks.
At last I was able to look away as Ransley's time on the earth ended. There was nothing more I could do. She had succeeded in doing what she had tried to do so many times before. Blinded by tears, I bundled up the newspaper and the notebook and it was only as I was stuffing them both into Ransley's abandoned back pack that I noticed the date on the paper: 7th January 2005, the same date that was written next to her name in the notebook.
CHAPTER NINE
My feet barely touched the ground as I ran the whole way back to the city centre through the pouring rain. I knew I had to get away as fast as possible, if I was found there I would be blamed. Even I was suspicious, two people associated with me had died since I made my escape from the hospital and I had somehow predicted this in that damn notebook of mine. Then there was the body they had found in the woods. I knew I had not physically killed them but what if I was cursed and had in my own way made this happen. I was dripping wet by the time I reached Queen Street station and in the bathroom there I dug my fists into my eyes and cried silently. I would have to go back and face them. I had no choice. As I sat on the floor in one of the cubicles, a snivelling wreck, my mind wandered involuntarily to the stories Ransley had told me about her past suicide attempts and I pictured her lying in that horrible flat bleeding to death, that loud, grinding music bouncing off the walls she had tried so hard to cover with all those posters.
"Why Ransley, why?" I wailed, "Why now? Why did you succeed this time when you failed so many times before?"
At least she was where she wanted to be now, I told myself bitterly. But where did that leave me? Alone again. Each time someone showed me the slightest kindness I lost them. Everyone who promised help went away. There was some kind of terrible curse on me, I knew that now. I thought of you, Caroline, and in my mind I saw you standing in the small town police station with your arm raised, the black text standing out on your neck. Does it mean you will die early too?
"Get going, these people mean nothing to you, they are but distractions from your real purpose."
"Who are you?" I shouted as I pushed open the cubicle door to face the empty bathroom, "Get out of my head, Only lunatics hear voices and I not a lunatic! I'm not! I'm not!"
As I shouted I hit myself across the head over and over as though this would chase away that awful hissing voice that frightened me so much. It wasn't really there. It was something from my past. Someone whom I had both loved and hated in equal measures. My mind was just using his voice, perhaps drawing on what he may have said had he been here. Who was he? This mysterious man with the burning cigarette and bottle of whisky. Was he my Father? Why did I have such mixed feelings every time I thought about him? What exactly had he done to me?
I hastily changed into dry clothes before I tore open Ransley's backpack
and hunted for the money I knew she had stuffed in there. I found £200 bundled up in one of the pockets. Not much but it would do, it would all be fine when I got to Edinburgh, all the answers were waiting for me there, of that I was certain. That mysterious girl too, Lilly, she would be there and I would find her no matter what it took. She would tell me everything I needed to know. I pushed the money back into the pocket of the bag and hurriedly left the bathroom.
A glance at the departures board told me I had missed the last train and so I was forced to spend the rest of the night on a bench in the waiting room probably looking quite at home among the collection of homeless people and drunks in my bedraggled state.
When the coffee stall opened at 7am I got a hot drink to try and coax some of the feeling back into my fingers and I watched as the station grew busier and busier as the morning rush hour began. My eyes were bleary and tired as the endless commuters rushed by me. Businessmen in expensive suits shouting into mobiles and the endless click of high heeled shoes. Some of them stopped and gave me funny looks but I was getting used to this by now.
As the next hour passed kids on their way to school began to crowd the station, jostling and fighting. I watched as a young gothic boy was pushed and shoved by a crowd of youths in baseball caps and I wondered if I had been bullied when I was younger. I can’t explain but I somehow felt empathy for that boy as if my body too had been the victim of abuse from someone bigger than me.