by Jodi Taylor
So that was how he’d known about me. Jones and I had left these things behind us in the fire and they’d come back to bite us seventy years later.
He paused and stared out of the window, smiling slightly. ‘And then, having successfully moved mountains, I found I had a fly in my ointment. I cannot tell you how difficult it was to persuade Ted to bring you here to meet me. There was always some problem – some excuse. Do you know, I actually had to invent an entire Open Day and order Ted to bring you along? The same for the Christmas Party. I was becoming quite irritated. But then, of course, Ted died.’
A huge ball of ice sat in my chest. I stared and stared at his colour. He was excited, I could see that. And pleased with himself – I could see that too. I don’t know if he had himself under control or whether I just wasn’t functioning properly today. In the end, I went old school and just fired the question straight at him.
‘Did you have Ted killed?’
He was horrified. I could see that. No, he hadn’t had Ted killed. He was innocent of that, at least. Of course he was. I began to feel guilty for even thinking such a thing, and then, being Sorensen, he blew it.
‘I won’t deny it was a fortunate event, of course, but …’ He suddenly remembered who he was talking to.
Any remaining doubts about what I was about to do fled straight out into the snow. He’d played the long game and, one by one, the different pieces had tumbled into his lap. And when he’d needed an E. Cage – he’d made one. I’d been manipulated. We all had. I felt as if I’d been … manufactured. He’d played with all our lives. All three of us. And of those three, two were dead.
I felt a stone-cold certainty. I was doing the right thing.
‘So, Mrs Cage – I am certain you have something to tell me and I very much wish you would do so.’
I let the silence gather, staring out of the window across the snow-filled garden. Eventually I sighed, as if coming to a reluctant decision and dropped the words into his world like pebbles into a still pool of water.
I told him what I’d told Jones. ‘I can see things. About people. I can see the sort of person they are. I can see what they know. Whether they’re lying. Whether they’re happy or not. Or ill. Or hiding something. I look at people and I just … know.’
His colour boiled around him. Like greasy milk again. He swallowed a couple of times and then said hoarsely, ‘And the jacket?’
Well, I’d come this far …
‘You have a ghost. She took both of us back to 1940. We saved her from burning. Jones left his jacket and the torch behind in the confusion. That’s what the builders found.’
His office was so silent I could hear the snow hissing against the windows. On the other side of the door, I heard a telephone ring far away. It rang twice and then fell silent.
He sat staring at me, his mouth working as he struggled to put the words together. His colour was vibrating with excitement, giving off an unpleasant oily sheen. I could see the turmoil of his emotions. Triumph. Pride. Elation. Satisfaction. Exultation It was the first time I’d ever seen him not in complete control of either himself or the situation.
Eventually he managed to say, ‘Does this mean you will consider my offer?’
It wasn’t too late. I could still pull back.
No I couldn’t. I’d come too far. No turning back. He thought I’d walked into his trap and actually – he’d walked into mine. I had only to slam the door behind him.
I held the silence just long enough for him to begin to worry and then said, ‘Yes, it means I will consider your offer.’
He didn’t rub his hands together but I had the impression it was only by exercising the greatest restraint. ‘Excellent. That’s excellent. Now, we mustn’t overtax your strength. I shall ring for Erin to take you back to your room and we’ll begin tomorrow, shall we?’
We had several sessions together. Something he seemed to look forward to. I was too busy telling him as little as possible to gain any enjoyment from them. I honestly thought I hadn’t given him much to go on but he obviously felt he’d heard enough, however, and moved more quickly than I expected, because he startled me one day, saying he’d arranged for some people to come and meet me.
‘I thought a small demonstration might be in order. And then once you’ve impressed them, we should be able to attract some investment and really get moving.’
I had obviously underestimated his desire to justify himself in his boss’s eyes. Perhaps I could use that somehow. I regarded him warily. ‘What did you have in mind?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I’m not sure what they’ll be looking for, so we’ll just wing it, shall we?’
He was so obviously lying to me that I was easily able to tell my conscience to shut up. I sat quietly, looking at my hands and trying to work through the implications. I hadn’t factored other people into my plan. I tried to prise more information from him but he was very cagey and I didn’t want to arouse any suspicions, so I changed the subject and he seemed happy to let it go.
I don’t know what he’d said, but they came the very next day.
Chapter Thirty
They came in a military helicopter. I watched it pass out of sight behind a stand of bare trees where, presumably, there was some sort of landing pad. I heard the flurry as they came in through the front door, their voices rising and falling, doors opening as Sorensen took them into his office, and then silence as the doors closed. I wondered what Sorensen was saying about me. What exactly he was telling them. And I wondered how long they would keep me waiting.
Not very long, it would seem. These were busy people. I suspected I was just one appointment among many today. The helicopter was still here, ready to whisk them away to wherever they were scheduled to be next.
I refused lunch. Just for once, I wasn’t hungry. Erin called for me as they were taking my tray away. I could probably have walked – I should have walked, it would have done me good, but I wasn’t offered the choice.
The sight of her caused a tiny stir in my conscience. I had no idea what was going to happen but none of it was going to be good, so as she pushed me to the lift, I said, ‘Not on snow-clearing duties today?’
She laughed. ‘You’re kidding. I’m not going out there.’
I twisted around to look over her shoulder. ‘You should.’
‘Should what?’
‘Get yourself on snow-clearing today. Outside. You all should.’
‘Why?’
Why indeed?
I said, ‘Exercise is good for you.
Or so you’re always telling me.’
We arrived at the lift and she pressed the button, never taking her eyes off me. Moments passed.
‘Perhaps I will,’ she said slowly.
I had no time to wonder what she knew or even if she knew anything at all. And I couldn’t say any more. I nodded. ‘A wise decision.’
The lift sped me silently downwards. I wasn’t the slightest bit surprised to be decanted into the basement. It seemed to me that everything since my first visit to the Sorensen Clinic had been building up for this moment. For the record, I felt no qualms. No guilt at abandoning the rules under which I had lived my life. I was calm. I was very calm. I was the calm before the storm.
I could sense the disbelief as soon as Erin opened the door. I had to suppress a smile. Had they been expecting Merlin the Magician? What they got was me, battered, arm in a sling, dressed in clinic sweats and with a blanket over my knees like an old woman. Disbelief turned to disappointment. They eyed each other and said nothing.
I saw four people, excluding Sorensen. One woman and three men. The woman was Sorensen’s boss, I was sure of it, and they really didn’t like each other at all. Her colour was a deep crimson, strong and powerful. The two colours – her red and his milky blue-white battled against each other, each constantly probing the other for weakness. Usually, incompatible colours stay away from each other, but these two were engaged in a real battle of wills. I would have liked some tim
e to observe their struggle, but not today. Not ever, actually. She wore a Cossack-style fur hat and smartly frogged coat. The basement was as chilly as I remembered so I didn’t blame her.
Two of the men were in army uniform. One had slightly more medal ribbons than the other so I assumed he was the one in charge. He looked just as I always imagined a high-ranking army officer would look, square-built and with a crew-cut. He looked youngish, but there were lines around his face and mouth. His colour was a grey green, the colour of lavender leaves, and flickered occasionally. He was not as completely confident as he would wish. The other was tall and thin, exquisitely turned out. Not a hair out of place. Even his nails were manicured. Interestingly, his colour was a bright fuchsia pink, shot through with purple. If ever anyone was in the wrong job …
Off to one side sat a smaller man, a civilian, a little older than the others. He had thinning hair grey hair. His pin-striped suit was neat and precise. A notebook lay on the table in front of him. Compared with the other two, he had little physical presence. His colour was a deep, deep blue. Very thick and very controlled.
They sat at tables placed in a U-shaped formation. Sorensen at the table on my left, the civilian on my right, and the other three directly opposite me. A very nervous Erin, conscious that all eyes were on us, helped me into the plain wooden chair that had been set out for me, whispered, ‘Good luck,’ and then left me taking my wheelchair with her. I wondered if I was supposed to feel as exposed and vulnerable as I did. This was a very adversarial layout and my getaway vehicle had just been wheeled out of the door.
There were no introductions. Presumably they already knew my name and I wasn’t important enough to know theirs.
I looked around me. We were in a bare concrete room, harshly lit by three sets of overhead lights. Other than the tables and chairs, there were two grey metal filing cabinets and an old wooden bookcase. I wasn’t close enough to read the titles. Spare wooden chairs were arranged around the walls. Tea and coffee-making equipment stood on a table in the corner. No one offered me anything. So much for being an important asset. The red fire extinguisher by the door was the brightest spot colour in the room. I heard a quick exchange of voices outside. The door opened and an armed soldier slipped inside, taking up his position in front of the door. From similar sounds, I assumed another was on the other side. I had no idea whether they were to prevent unauthorised entry by someone else or an even more unauthorised exit by me.
I settled myself comfortably on my creaky wooden chair and smoothed the blanket over my knees. We looked at each other. I think it’s fair to say neither side was particularly impressed by the other.
The silence went on but I didn’t care. I could wait.
The woman spoke first. Placing a red pencil on the table in front of her, she said, ‘Can you move this?’
‘Don’t be in too much of a hurry to show them what you can do,’ said the thing inside my head. ‘Have a little fun first. Remember you are stronger than you think.’
She was impatient and abrupt. ‘Well, can you?’
No one, apart from Sorensen was even bothering to look at me. Their colours were streaming away from me. I could see they all thought I was just another fake. And if I wasn’t a fake then I was a freak.
I said quietly, ‘Yes,’ and saw Sorensen stir uneasily. His colour had moved towards me and was jumping about all over the place. I wondered if he’d suddenly had some sort of premonition.
She sat back and gestured to the pencil. ‘Then do it.’
I threw the blanket aside, stood up creakily, picked up the pencil, moved it six inches to the right and sat back down again.
There was rather a nasty silence, although I thought I saw the civilian bite back a smile.
She sighed. ‘I meant – can you move it without touching it?’
Sighing, I got up again and approached. I blew hard and the pencil rolled away across the table. You should have seen their faces. I have to say – that was a really good moment. I was enjoying this. The thought crossed my mind that I should have done this years ago.
Sorensen’s boss glared at him across the table. You didn’t have to have any sort of special gift to see what she was thinking. Or whose fault this was all going to turn out to be. He made a placatory gesture.
She picked up a folder and began to leaf through the contents. Ah – this would be Sorensen’s legendary file. The one I’d discussed with Michael Jones. Almost a year ago, now. That had been another life.
She began to read aloud. ‘Elizabeth Louise Cage. Née Ford. Date of birth unknown. Place of birth unknown. Parents unknown. Adoptive parents Richard James Ford and Sandra Louise Elizabeth Ford of 29 Painswick Avenue, Rushford. Attended Whitewood Infants School and then on to Rushford St Winifred’s. Exam results unspectacular. ‘A’ Levels in English Language, English Literature and History. Employed as a basic records clerk for Rushford Council for six years. No promotions. Married Edward James Cage of 36 The Copse, Whittington, Rushfordshire. Widowed … um … one year ago. No details of hobbies, activities, interests, club memberships or close friends. Current address 13 Castle Close, Rushford. Daily activities appear to consist solely of shopping and visiting the library.’
Her tone of voice stung. As, no doubt, it was intended to.
‘Is that it?’ said someone. ‘Is that all we’ve got? What about close associates? Holidays? Daily routines?’
She held up the single sheet of paper between her forefinger and thumb and then let it fall contemptuously. ‘She’s a housewife. Just a bored and boring little housewife trying to make herself interesting.’
I felt the cold ball of anger begin to uncoil itself in my stomach.
‘Not yet,’ said the thing in my head. ‘Not quite yet.’
The civilian closed his notebook and as if that was some sort of signal, the others began to pick up their files.
I let them get as far as standing up. They were stuffing things in briefcases and muttering to each other. No one was looking at me. That was the last time that would ever happen.
The pencil was lying on the table. A good six feet away from me.
‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ said the thing in my head.
Here goes.
I picked it up with my thoughts and hurled it at the wall with such force that it actually drove itself deep into the plaster, about four inches from the woman’s head. She froze with shock. As did everyone else. Including me. I’d never done that before and it had been slightly more … spectacular … than I’d intended. But quite enjoyable.
They stared at the pencil, its stump firmly embedded at the centre of a spider’s web of cracked plaster. No one moved. No one spoke. Their colours had turned very muddy indeed, shot through with red. Suddenly, they were all very, very afraid. And they were afraid of me.
‘Cool,’ said the thing in my head. ‘But don’t stop there.’
The woman sat back down with thud and the room was full of a frightened stillness of which I had no difficulty taking advantage. I closed my eyes and let my mind wander free. Because everyone has secrets. Words, thoughts and images all tumbled through my brain. I saw it all. Just for once, I was on the same side as the thing in my head. We were working together and it was exhilarating.
I opened my eyes and turned to the woman, still staring open-mouthed at the pencil. ‘You had a choice. Two paths lay before you. You chose wrongly. You would have been happy. You know it and you know you killed your baby for nothing. He would have been your son. You would have been his mother. You should have given your last breath in his defence, but you just swatted him aside for the benefit of lesser prizes. He’s never left you, has he? Do you still feel the touch of his cold hand whenever you’re alone?’
She went white to her lips, screamed, ‘Bitch,’ and shot to her feet, knocking over her chair.
Sorensen restrained her, putting his hand on her arm and whispering urgently in her ear. One of the soldiers picked up her chair. She sat slowly, ashen-faced, but
I’d moved on to the crew-cutted man.
‘You ran away, didn’t you? You took the radio and you ran. They called you a hero – they still do – but you and I both know what a filthy coward you really are.’
He stared for a moment, his expression ugly, and then said, ‘This interview is terminated.’ Shouldering his aide aside, he made for the door.
My head began to throb. Just as it usually did when I tried this sort of thing for too long. This time, I ignored it, turning to his aide, who was just straightening his immaculate uniform and preparing to follow his boss.
‘And you. Using your money to buy your way through life. You paid handsomely to get through university. There’s always a bright boy or girl desperate for money and willing to do anything to get it, isn’t there? Doesn’t it keep you awake at night – the fear that one day you’ll find yourself in a place where your money can’t save you. Well I have news for you, buster. Today’s the day. Isn’t it, Colonel?’
I turned to the civilian, sitting still and silent and not missing a thing.
‘That was pathetic, Colonel. You thought you’d swap places with your aides to see if I would know. Utterly pathetic – just as you were all those years ago when you failed to save her. I know what you did. I know what you’ve all done, all of you, you worthless pieces of shit.’
I felt something warm and wet collect on my top lip and wiped it off with my sleeve. My nose was bleeding. Quite badly by the feel of it and my headache was becoming worse by the second. It hurt my eyes to look at the lights.
They were all on their feet now. Sorensen, as frightened as the rest of them, took a step towards me, his hand outstretched, saying, ‘Elizabeth, you’re not well. Perhaps we should all take a moment …’ and my mind picked up a glass of water and threw it at him. Most of it missed him, but I was learning all the time.