by Glover, Nhys
To deflect attention, Cassie started reading the entry. Hawk could read English, it was necessary for training manuals, but he wasn’t fluent. So it was a relief when she read his biography aloud. After she read the information on the early part of 1944, she slowed down and became more tentative.
‘What is wrong?’ he asked her, trying to see where she was up to on the screen.
‘Well, you lived past March 1944. You flew more missions right through into the latter part of summer. Are you sure you want to know how you died?’
‘Yes, please. It seems odd that I do not remember the last three or four months of my life.’
She covered the missions and the statistics. He’d made it to fifteen confirmed kills by the end. It said that made him one of the most successful pilots of the war. On the last mission, one that he was not supposed to be rostered on for because he had a cold, he went missing. His body was recovered after the war from the wreckage of his plane in France.
He frowned, trying hard to remember anything about this so-called last mission. Why would he go out with a cold when he knew better? If he required oxygen during the flight, the cold would have made breathing it through the mask impossible. When had he become so lax with the very basic rules of survival?
‘No one seems to know the full story…’ Cassie said, as she stopped reading before the end.
‘I got them all killed didn’t I?’ he said with sudden clarity. A heavy weight descended on his chest. Suddenly, he could hardly breathe.
‘Got them killed? What? No. Yours was the only plane lost from your squadron. The only one hit. Look, read it for yourself.’
But he couldn’t read it. He was reeling from the onslaught of memories.
Sixty enemy planes – and they had only their squadron of twelve and another ready to face them. He gave the order to attack, knowing they were outnumbered. It was a suicide mission. What was he thinking?
After bouncing one of the Focke-Wulf 190s that had just taken off, he’d turned to make another run at the row of planes preparing for take-off. His squadron had surprise and height on their side, and it was like shooting ducks in a pond. At least until enough of them got in the air. Then the tables turned.
He was hit and lost his radio. Searching the skies as he banked to return to the fray, he couldn’t find any of his squadron. Planes were going down right, left and centre, but where were his men? They were down. They had to be down or they’d be watching his back. They always kept each other in view, even when chasing down stragglers, but he couldn’t see anyone from his Squadron.
Then his engine exploded in flames and he lost control.
The whine of the plane as it careened downward was the worst sound in the world. How often had he heard it? Hundreds of times. Yet it was never this close. It was never him. But his moment had come. There was no time to eject, no time for anything.
The flames engulfed the cockpit. The last thing he remembered was the smoke scorching his lungs, the searing agony of the flames burning the flesh off his body and the earth coming up to meet him – too fast.
Fighting to stay present – afraid he’d be jerked back to the tree and the bliss of forgetfulness if he didn’t stay present – he reached out for Cassie, focusing on the feel of her warm skin beneath his hand. This was now; that was then. This was now… Cassie was now… Everything else was gone, over… no more than memories from the past.
He coughed as he felt the smoke fill his lungs. His legs gave way under him. His vision blurred. Cassie was out of the chair and by his side in an instant. Looking up into her troubled face was the only thing that kept him present. The only thing he had to hold onto.
‘Hawk… stay with me… please, stay with me. I need you. You said you’d save me… Stay with me…’
CHAPTER SIX
Cassie had known it was a bad idea to research him, but her curiosity got the better of her. She wanted to show off all the wonders her world now had, and her pride had led to this.
Hawk was fading, becoming transparent. She could no longer feel him even though their hands were still knotted together. Tears were pouring down her face, making vision unclear. She didn’t want to lose one second of the sight of him. He had been in her life for only twelve hours, and only a little over an hour of that was with him present, but it felt as if she’d known him her whole life. It felt as if he was her whole life.
How was that possible? How was any of this possible? Possible or not, her reality was firmly fixed on the ghostly pilot fading before her eyes. How would she bear it if she never saw him again? She’d lost so much… too much… She couldn’t lose him, too.
‘Cassie, what’s happening?’ Marnie asked softly, her voice wobbling.
‘He started to remember his death. He’s reliving it, I think. Now he’s fading. I can’t keep him here. He’s fading.’ She was crying deep agonised sobs, and the tears rained down on the fading hand to which she clung.
Suddenly, Hawk stopped coughing and went very still. This was the moment he would disappear, she was sure of it, but instead he drew himself up so that he could look at their clasped hands.
His reached out to touch the teardrop that she could see resting on his transparent finger. It, too, was transparent. How could her tear be transparent? He looked up at her, his eyes alive with wonder, and little by little, his solidity returned until she could feel him firm but muted in her grasp.
‘I felt it. I felt your tear. Not as a dulled sensation. It felt normal.’ He looked at her in wonder and then down at the smear of water on his skin.
She didn’t care what had just happened; all she cared about was that this handsome, sensitive man was back with her. The how’s of it all were irrelevant.
‘What’s happening?’ Marnie asked again, obviously frustrated by not being able to see and hear what was going on.
‘He’s back. He’s solid again.’ Cassie didn’t want to explain about the teardrop. It was too personal. Whatever it meant concerned just Hawk and herself. It seemed intimate.
Hawk scrambled to his feet, his face red with mortification. ‘Sorry, sorry. I really lost control then. So much for the brave flying ace, huh?’
‘Don’t be absurd. You just relived your death. That was bound to be traumatic. Do you want to sit down? You still look wonky.’
‘Wonky? What is that?’
‘Wobbly. Unsteady on your feet.’
‘Yes, I feel wonky. I will sit. My chest still feels burned, even though I know it cannot be so.’
Hawk fell into a nearby lounge chair and almost dropped right through it. After a moment of concentration, he corrected his position somehow. He was getting very good at manipulating their world.
‘I’d offer you a cup of tea, young man, but you wouldn’t be able to drink it.’
That made Hawk smile. Cassie found she was smiling again, too, for the first time since they started this Internet activity.
‘Tell her I appreciate the offer but I am feeling more myself again.’
Cassie relayed Hawk’s words and Marnie nodded, taking a seat on the two-seater sofa. Cassie returned to the office chair in front of the computer.
‘So did you think that your men went down with you?’ she asked tentatively.
‘Yes. I considered it a suicide mission when we saw the number of planes taking off. We were greatly outnumbered. The sensible thing would have been to get out of there before we were spotted. Radio back the location of the base. But I had become very blasé… that is the word, yes? Too casual. Maybe my head was foggy from the cold. Maybe I was just exhausted from the constant fighting. The English could go home on leave to see their families. We could not. I know I was missing my family, had all but given up on them being alive. I think I had stopped caring whether I lived or died, but I was still responsible for my men. My careless attitude got them killed, or that was what I thought in those last panicky moments. I couldn’t see them anywhere. I thought they had all gone down.’
‘They’d peeled off and s
cattered. You didn’t know because your radio was out. They all got home safely, Hawk. Not a bullet hit any of them.’
He looked down at his hands and for the first time she noticed they were shaking. How could she ever have seen this man as hard and cold? She had never met a man quite as sensitive as this one. Yet, that didn’t make him weak or unmanly. It was as if he had a hard exterior with a soft centre that was now leaking through the shell, softening the outer man into someone approachable, someone real.
‘That is good. I needed to hear that. Thank you, Cassie. The guilt was terrible. I did not know it was there until I remembered. I think I blocked out those months because of my guilt.’
‘Probably. It’s hard to imagine what a dead person does with guilt. Are there ghosts everywhere carrying their guilty burdens with them?’
‘I have not seen any others besides me,’ Hawk said thoughtfully.
‘Some people say that ghosts are people who get stuck here for one reason or another. That the dead usually see the light and go through to Heaven or whatever, but ghosts don’t do that. They don’t go through. Did you see the light?’
Hawk shook his head, frowning. ‘The last thing I remember is the ground coming up to meet me and then being here in the garden. I cannot remember how I came to be here. I just assumed… I was visiting again. It was all very vague and it did not seem to matter to me that it was.’
‘What are you two talking about?’ Marnie asked, peevishly.
‘The afterlife. Hawk has seen no other ghosts and has never seen the light at the end of the tunnel. He was in his plane going down and then he was here. That’s all.’
‘Hmmm. I think he was stuck here waiting for you.’
‘Yes, and he thinks so, too. I’m not sure how that could be, but it makes as much sense as any of this does.’ Cassie sighed heavily. ‘If you don’t mind, I think I need to go lie down for a while. Last night is catching up on me. I’m suddenly exhausted.’
‘That’s a good idea, dear. You’ve been through a lot. What will you do with Hawk? He can stay here and play on the laptop. Practice his manipulation of objects.’
Cassie looked at Hawk to see what he wanted to do. She wanted him to stay with her but she didn’t want to be that blatant, and how much fun would he have watching her sleep?
‘Would it be inappropriate for me to stay in your room while you sleep?’ Hawk asked uncomfortably.
‘No, of course not. Twenty-first century rules are much more relaxed than your time. And I don’t think the rules apply to ghosts anyway.’
‘Good, then I will stay with you, Cassie. You anchor me here. I am not sure what will happen to me if I am too far from you.’
Cassie turned to Marnie. ‘Hawk wants to come with me. We’ll see you later, okay?’
‘All right, dear, although I’m not sure I agree with you about what is appropriate. But I can hardly stand in his way, can I?’ She gave a little chuckle.
Cassie smiled tiredly and leaned over to give Marnie a quick peck on the cheek. ‘You are so good to me. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.’
Hawk felt as shy and uncertain as a schoolboy as they entered Cassie’s bedroom again. The sun was now streaming through the window in bright beams of light, but he couldn’t feel it. He stood tentatively at the door as Cassie removed her dressing gown and climbed tiredly into bed.
It hurt him to see her this way – all the joy and vitality leeched out of her. He wanted to stroke her head and whisper crooning words of comfort to her, but that action would have been as foreign to him as dancing in a ballet. Women comforted; men protected. But he had no idea what he was protecting Cassie from. Her disease? That he couldn’t hold back if it wanted her. He needed a physical enemy to fight.
‘Don’t hover,’ she said with a little smile. ‘You wanted to be here. Relax. Lay down next to me if you like. I know my virtue is safe with you.’
The little smile turned into a grin, and though it was good to see it again, he felt insulted that she found him harmless. Was he now a toothless tiger? A woman who invited him to her bed in the past would not have left that bed unsatisfied. But virtue? He didn’t take virgins, not even when he lost his own virginity. That event had been with the widow at No 25 who used to get him to do odd jobs for her after school. How old was he? Fifteen? But he was big for his age, and the thirty-something widow had been a kind and competent teacher.
Was Cassie a virgin? He didn’t even know if she was married. Well, he could remedy some of his concerns before she slept.
‘Do you still have your virtue? Have you never married?’
Her grin grew larger still, until her straight white teeth seemed to dominate her face. ‘I was joking, Hawk. I lost my virtue at sixteen to my first boyfriend; I thought he loved me. Turned out he was just in lust with me. When it wore off, he moved on. There were a couple of guys after him, until I met Hugh. We were going to be married, but then I found out he was sleeping with his ex. That’s three years ago now. There hasn’t been anyone since. Certainly not since the big C.’
‘Big see?’
‘Cancer. Not since I was diagnosed with cancer. No man would want to get involved with someone like me… unless he fancied boys.’ The lightness in her voice was edged with sadness and he realised it was bravado that fuelled this speech.
‘Cassie, you are a beautiful woman. Any man would be proud to be with you.’
The little smirk told him she didn’t believe him so he let it lie. When she patted the bed at her side and wriggled her eyebrows, he gave in with a bark of humour. He didn’t think he’d ever known a woman who could make him laugh like this one could. He’d laughed and smiled more in the last… however long it had been since he met her… than he had since he was young.
Hawk removed his cap, jacket, collar and shoes and climbed onto the bed beside her. Carefully judging where the pillow was, he reclined back onto it. He was coming to realise that if he wanted to obey the laws that applied to this world, he had to get a clear image in his head of where the objects were. Once that was fixed in his mind, he seemed to be able to use everything in much the same way as he used to, though he still didn’t feel them. He still didn’t have a sense of the bed beneath him or the softness of the pillow at his back as he leaned his head back against the iron headboard.
Cassie faced away from him, her forehead resting against the bedside table, sheet pulled up around her neck. Before he could second-guess himself, he reached out and cupped her bare head in the palm of his hand, using his thumb to stroke the smooth skin there.
‘I seem to be able to feel you more now. At first, I was never quite sure what I was sensing. Now I don’t have to be looking at you to know your hand is on my head and you’re rubbing your thumb backward and forward over my skin. What do you think my tear becoming transparent meant?’
Her voice was groggy with tiredness and he knew he should tell her to sleep, but he wanted to keep her with him just a little longer.
‘Your tear looked transparent? Hmmm. To me it felt and looked real. Maybe the contact brought it over from your side to mine.’
‘We’ll have to experiment some more later. Hawk…’ Her voice was as soft and fragile as a cobweb.
‘Hmmm?’
‘I’ve never been as scared as I was when you started to fade. I can’t lose you…’
He replaced his hand with his lips, kissing her warm, smooth skin, savouring the contact. ‘I was more scared than I have ever been, too. Not from dying… from the fear of leaving you. I never knew love felt like this.’
‘Love?’ There was a little catch in her throat.
‘You think it is too soon to talk of love? I knew it the moment I saw you at the window. It is what kept me here. I was twenty-eight when I died and I had never known love. But if I had known what it would be like, I would have died sooner.’ He smiled against her skin and kissed her head again.
‘I thought I’d been in love twice before. What I’m starting to feel for you makes th
ose feelings seem insipid. Don’t leave me. Dying will be easy if you’re there…’
‘Pet, you are not going to die… not yet, not for many, many years. I will not let you.’
She smiled sleepily and drifted off.
For some time after she fell asleep, Hawk lay at her side remembering those lost months. In some ways, they’d been easier than the years that went before, because he was immune to the terror and the loss by then. He’d even become immune to killing. There were times when he even felt satisfaction as he saw another enemy pilot die in his cockpit before his plane nosedived for the ground.
What had become of him that he could enjoy inflicting injury and death on other human beings? Was Mika’s death the turning point? The time when he lost his humanity? It felt like losing him was the straw that broke the camel’s back. After that, he was numb. Hardened to war; hardened to life. It no longer touched him.
Now in death something touched him, both physically and emotionally. He loved in a way he couldn’t have imagined possible. All those corny love songs suddenly meant something. They didn’t express the true dimensions of what he was feeling, but they came close. This one small female, damaged almost beyond repair, was so infinitely precious to him he couldn’t contemplate existence without her. Her laughter and enthusiasm gave him life; her fragility gave him back his strength and determination. The threat to her life gave him purpose once more. Love was too tame a word for what he felt for her. It was as if he’d stored up all the love he could have given in his life and then poured it out over her, into her, and the backwash filled him with terrified delight.
And, just as she feared losing him, he was in agony at the thought of losing her.
He closed his eyes on this thought and let himself drift into sleep. Did ghosts sleep? He hadn’t slept in all the years that had passed in the garden. But then, he’d not seen them as years. They were simply the seconds and minutes that it took to smoke one cigarette.