2079- Beyond the Blue

by Florence Watson

  ‘How are you?’ I ask, remembering almost immediately that I’d intended to pay her a compliment first.

  ‘I’m fine. How are you?’ She replies, looking me over carefully.

  ‘I’m good.’ I answer, doing my best to avoid her scrutiny by taking a sip of my tea. I’m still horror struck by the vision. I can only assume it to be a manifestation of my worst fear; coming to a violent end if she sees right through what I’m doing.

  ‘Are you sure you’re alright.’ She says, still studying me closely.

  ‘Yes, absolutely. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night so my apologies if I seem out of sorts. Would you like a drink?’

  ‘No thank you.’

  ‘Something to eat perhaps?’

  ‘No I’m fine. I don’t have much time. I’ve just popped out of the office. So what did you want to speak to me about?’ She says, folding her arms.

  This is not the Heather I saw yesterday. The frosty reception is understandable perhaps, but it’s putting me off the speech I’d revised. I’m going to have to adapt and improvise. The best lies are based on truths and as I'm struggling to keep my leg from shaking, and she’s aware of it, I decide that my best option is to admit that I’m not okay. ‘To be honest Heather, I’m a little nervous. No, that’s a lie. I’m extremely nervous.’

  ‘Nervous? Why?’

  ‘Well aside from all the people in here’ I say, quickly glancing around. ‘I don’t know what you must think of me.’

  I look up expectantly and wait for her response.

  ‘I’m not sure what to think Inigo.’ She says eventually. She flicks her red hair back off her shoulders and sits up a little straighter. ‘After yesterday, the last thing I expected was for you to call.’

  ‘But you’re pleased that I did?’

  ‘Well, yes. But when we last met you were so...cold.’

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry.’

  ‘You said you had to do this alone.’

  ‘Yes. I did.’

  ‘You said that you needed to find peace. Have you now found it?’

  ‘No. Not exactly.’

  ‘So why did you ask me here?’

  I adjust my position in readiness to begin. ‘Well after you left, I thought hard about what you’d said and it dawned on me that forgiving the man who killed my Shadow is only part of the problem.’ I pause and take what appears to be a much needed breath, denoting the difficulty I’m having expressing my feelings.

  ‘Go on.’ She urges, softening a little.

  ‘Since losing my friends, I’ve been scared of committing to any sort of relationship. The thought of getting attached to anyone is absolutely terrifying because I know I can’t control what happens to them. Does that make sense?’

  ‘Yes, it does.’ She says, looking deep into my eyes.

  ‘But what you said made me realise something; I can’t neglect my needs and miss out on positive experiences because I’m afraid to take a chance on someone new. That would be a terrible waste. I have a very long life ahead of me and I don’t want to spend it alone, so it’s a chance I’m going to have to take. And I’m now willing to.’

  ‘I understand.’ She says, thoughtfully. ‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained.’

  ‘That’s a very old saying. Not many know it.’

  ‘Well it’s not the sort of thing people want to hear in a society that discourages risk taking. But it’s something my father says. He’s referring to financial investment of course, but I think it’s true of relationships too. The thing is Inigo, it doesn’t matter that you’re scared or that we’re not a perfect match…’

  ‘But we are. Aren’t we?’

  ‘According to Genie, yes. But let’s face it; we have very little in common other than our fortuitous upbringing. You know I’m right.’

  My eyes narrow questioningly. Why would she say that we’re not a match? A test perhaps? To determine the true motive for changing my mind. She’d be foolish not to question my reasons under normal circumstances, which is the illusion she’s creating. Plus, she was sent to watch me and I rejected her. She failed her mission. So it’s highly likely that her defensiveness is genuine. ‘So why did you agree to meet me?’

  ‘Because I wanted to see what you had to say. And because...’ She adds, breaking into a kittenish smile and returning to her default setting: ‘I fancy you.’

  I smile, on account of my success.

  ‘Physically’ she continues. ‘You’re… ‘She leans in and whispers: ‘well I think I made it clear on Saturday night in the bedroom.’

  A chill runs down my spine but a grin manifests on my lips, one that I hope conveys that I'm flattered.

  She sits back again and continues: ‘The pairing doesn’t have to be practical Inigo. There’s no need for it to get serious if you don’t want it to. Variety is the spice of a very long life, and the more the better. Do you realise our generation will be the first in the history of humanity to live comfortably into our hundreds? So there’s no need to think about settling down just yet.’

  ‘You’re absolutely right.’ I say, nodding in agreement and possibly also frowning as she then says:

  ‘I was warned that you take yourself far too seriously.’

  ‘Warned by whom?’

  ‘Oh, just about everybody! You’re notoriously stuffy.’

  ‘Stuffy?’

  ‘Yes. A total bore with a head full of politics. Actually, I saw you as a challenge.’ She says flirtatiously.

  ‘I see.’ I reply, pretending to care. My reputation has never concerned me. Hearing that I’m known to be ‘stuffy’ - whether real or made up - can only be an advantage. ‘I had no idea I was so badly thought of.’

  ‘It’s not that bad Inigo, it’s just that you’re not very...exciting.’

  ‘Okay.’ I say decisively. ‘No more stuffiness - or politics. Let’s just have fun and see where it takes us. And if it amounts to nothing, we go back to our lives none the poorer for the experience.’

  She beams at me. I think we have an understanding. I lean across the table, look into her eyes and whisper: ‘I’m flattered that you’re attracted to me Heather. Just so you know, the feeling is mutual.’

  ‘Of course it is.’ She giggles. ‘I felt the sparks on Saturday night. We’re going to have a lot fun.’ She adds, with a wicked grin.

  I smile back in supposed agreement. There were no sparks. Neither of us felt anything. I was drunk and she was just doing her job. But there’s something intriguing about the ease with which she lies. Deception seems to come naturally. I guess I’d expect no less from a psychopath.

  She taps two fingers and there’s a flash in her right eye.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Changing my relationship status to ‘dating’. Is it too soon?’ She says, pausing and looking up.

  ‘Not at all.’ I reply, then bring up my own profile and add Heather as my dating partner, realising that this is the second fake girlfriend I’ve had in a matter of months.

  ‘So do you want to come to my house party?’ She says, finishing then dismissing a couple of alerts.

  ‘Well that depends...’

  ‘You’re right.’ She interrupts. ‘Let’s do something on our own before then. Dinner again perhaps? Or ice skating?’

  I pick up my tea, thinking what a perilous and utterly pointless pursuit skating on ice is. We definitely weren’t matched based on our common interests. In fact we weren’t matched at all. She’s an agent. Somewhere it was decided that she would act the part - fit the profile of my female counterpart; strong willed, persistent, restless, attractive, alluring. Anger suddenly surges up inside and I feel my old self returning. ‘Actually Heather, I already have something in mind.’

  ‘Oh? What is it?’ She says, her eyes widening in anticipation.

  ‘How would you like to come to France with me?’

  ‘France?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well you like adventures, don’t you?’


  ‘Yes, I do!’ She says suddenly excited. ‘When?’

  ‘This weekend. We’ll leave on Friday evening and take my parents yacht. Fill the boat with champagne and cake, then sail to Le Havre and spend a couple of days taking in the sights. Or we can stay in the cabin bed for the entire trip if you’d prefer.’

  Her smile suddenly fades.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  She looks down frowning and bites her lip. ‘Crikey; that’s short notice Inigo. Does it have to be this weekend? Friday is the night of my party.’

  For the first time since she arrived, I question if she really is a spy. Hero said that if she declines, then she’s not working for the government. But this could be another test - a credible dose of realism as nobody would simply drop their plans. If that’s the case, I’m impelled to up my game: ‘I’m afraid I can’t apologise for my spontaneity Heather. I’d hoped it would seem romantic. But you’re right, it was thoughtless of me. I hadn’t considered that you might already have plans so I completely understand....’

  ‘Oh no, it is romantic! So romantic.’ She says, smiling suggestively. ‘Tell you what; I’ll postpone the party for a couple of weeks.’

  ‘No, I really can’t accept you rearranging your life just for me. We can sail to France, or any place you wish in fact, some other time.’

  ‘No, I want to, really. It’s just a house party. It’s not a special occasion or anything. Besides, my friends will be thrilled - not to mention jealous - when I tell them the reason I’m cancelling.’

  I guess this confirms that she’s an agent. Personally, I’d have held out a little longer; played the game. Suddenly I feel the tip of her shoe slide up my trouser leg and the image of my face being punctured by the heel of the psychopaths’ boot resurfaces. It takes all my strength not to recoil - to conceal the fact that I'm horror struck and revolted by this teasing gesture, that’s in complete contrast to the woman I know she really is. I do my best to return the naughty little smile she gives me, then lean forward, take her hand and put it to my lips. My only comfort is knowing that the next time we meet, I’ll be injecting a sleep serum into her neck.

  I’m considering whether I ought to kiss her when suddenly there’s a flash in her left eye. She slides her hand out of my hold and reads the message.

  ‘I’m sorry, I have to go.’

  ‘Oh that’s a pity.’ I say, with professed joylessness.

  ‘I did say I couldn’t stay long. Sadly, duty calls.’ She replies with a sorry, girlish pout. She stands, collects her coat, then tucks in her chair. ‘I wish I could stay though. I wish we were going away tonight. I’m so excited!’

  ‘Me too.’ I reply, also standing. ‘I’ll message you tomorrow with the details.’

  ‘I look forward to it.’ She says, then reaches up and presses her lips against mine.

  I took a white cab across the city to Euston Square. My fear of crowds had subsided a little since the meeting with Heather, who I’ve decided, is far scarier than any LOSER encounter could ever be. The solitary journey gave me time to process our interaction and to determine whether I’d done enough to gain her trust. I concluded that I had, provided she hadn’t worked out that I’m up to something. But she’d agreed, which was all I needed for now.

  I find the black marble bench in the square, in the shadow of the jagged modern tower and sit watching the road opposite. The scene is eerily familiar. As a boy I once caught the shuttle to meet my mother from work. I’d planned for us to see the Oxford Street lights; an old London tradition. Once a year in December, the city sky and pavements go black and the roads and buildings are illuminated only by decorative coloured lights. I was going to surprise her. She would be as excited as I’d been when I’d come up with the idea. I’d waited patiently for her to finish work, but apparently there'd been a delay. I’d looked out onto the street whilst I’d waited, fascinated by the scenes of daily life and suddenly, the world had seemed to revolve around me. I’d felt as though somehow I was at the centre of all the activity - the pivotal point; immune to the passing of time and separate from the chaos. I hadn’t been tempted to play any games on my eye. I don’t remember having felt boredom or hunger. I believe it was my first experience of people watching. Before I knew it, an hour had passed and my fingers were frozen. Eventually, my mother showed up. I think Hero had told her where I was. She couldn’t come with me right away as she was in a very important meeting, so I’d been compensated with the promise of going to see the lights some other time. I’d made out that I wasn't bothered so that she didn’t feel bad about letting me down, but I learned two very valuable lessons that day. Firstly that people are easier to read when they don’t know their being observed. And secondly, the only person I could ever rely on is Hero.

  At 1.40pm, I turn to check the revolving doors to see my mother briskly descending the steps of her building. She grabs the body of her coat as the wind tries to take it, and wraps it tightly around herself.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ she says, as she reaches me. ‘I tried to get away sooner. You know how it is…’ She smiles up warmly, though I notice that she’s shivering. In the sunlight, I see for the first time that she’s starting to age. But the signs are not external. Her skin is as flawless as ever. It’s in her eyes. They tell a new story, one of weariness and worry. I’d never noticed it until now. The last few months have clearly taken a toll.

  ‘Is everything alright?’ She asks.

  I smile then answer back: ‘Yes, everything is fine. Did you get my message?’

  ‘Is that why you’re here?’ She says, pretending not to know.

  ‘Yes mother, it’s important. I need to know if I can have the yacht this weekend.’

  ‘You came all this way just for that?’ She replies.

  It's a great line. I’m equally impressed with the delivery. ‘You hadn’t given me an answer and I need to know as soon as possible.’

  ‘Well I haven’t had a chance to speak to your father yet.’ She says, turning her head so the wind blows her hair in the other direction. ‘But I really don’t think it’s a good idea.’

  ‘I won’t be alone, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve asked Heather to accompany me.’

  ‘Oh?’

  Her surprise is genuine. Clearly she wasn’t aware of this part of the plan. ‘We’re dating now. See for yourself.’

  She brings up Genie, then stares past me as she reads off her eye. Her movements are a little wooden, if truth be told. I realise that she’s overplaying it for the benefit of the Bug that has just turned up to clean the square (we must assume that we’re being observed) but the conversation must seem real. She’s not supposed to be ‘acting’.

  ‘So you are.’ She says eventually, the blue light in her eyes vanishing.

  ‘I’d like to take her away on a romantic trip but I can’t do that unless you grant me access to the boat.’

  ‘But it’s not advisable Inigo.’

  ‘It wasn’t advisable three months ago.’

  ‘I really think I ought to discuss the matter with your father before coming to a decision.’ She says, squinting convincingly as a gust of wind hits her face. ‘Unfortunately I won’t see him until Saturday. He’s decided to stay in Cambridge a little longer and catch up with some old University friends.’

  ‘So message him. Trust me mother; I’m absolutely fine. Look at me.’ I say, standing back with my arms wide. ‘I’m out in public and I’m not a nervous wreck. Had you considered that? The fact that I’m standing here right now, not being anxious? It’s over. Now I just want to get on with living my life.’ I catch sight of another cleaning Bug in the corner of my eye and come back to stand facing her.

  ‘Well, you do look happier.’ She says, thoughtfully.

  ‘I am. Heather’s changed everything. And I’ve already told her about the trip so you have to give me the yacht. She’s looking forward to it. I don’t want to disappoint her.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have asked her before you had m
y answer.’ She replies, a little stilted.

  ‘So what is your answer?’

  ‘I’ll think about it and get back to you.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I say, knowing that the longer this is dragged out, the more believable it is.

  She now studies my expression, seeming to take in every detail of my face. It’s a little intrusive if truth be told. I can only assume that she’s feeling emotional. But it’s a little premature; I don’t leave for a few days yet and I’ll see her when she gets home. Realising that we’re on the brink of this becoming a poignant moment, I lean in as if to kiss her cheek but instead whisper into her hair. ‘Goodbye mother. See you tonight.’

  She reaches up and grabs me suddenly. ‘I’m going on a business trip. I leave from here at five. I can’t get out of it. I’m sorry.’

  ‘So this is goodbye.’ I mutter as she holds me tight. It’s unexpected. The news takes me by surprise. But we can’t afford to linger; it’s too suspicious so I quickly pull away.

  ‘Please take care of yourself.’ She says, searching my eyes. Then trying not to cry: ‘I’m proud of you son.’

  Chapter 9

  Shortly after returning from London, I made a shocking discovery. As I sat on the end of my bed considering the next few days ahead, I looked down and caught sight of something glittering on the floorboard. I leaned forward and picked up the tiny green gem which I quickly identified to be one of Heather’s face jewels. It had probably attached itself to my clothing on Tuesday evening when she’d sat on my lap. It made sense that I’d then shaken it off when I’d stripped for bed. Though this was entirely plausible, my mind would not settle for such simple reasoning. There was perhaps, another explanation. Before leaving on the evening of the unplanned visit, I remembered that Heather had asked to use the bathroom. My ensuite is the closest to the office and so the obvious choice. The bathroom is to the right on entry. My bed is to the left - twelve feet or so from the door. It was worth considering that she’d lost the gem in the bathroom; I’d then stepped on it and carried it through on the sole of my shoe. But what if this wasn’t the case? I decided that I couldn't rule out the possibility that it had fallen off where I found it; at the foot of my bed. If so, it meant that Heather had wandered further into the room than she’d actually needed to. It meant that she’d been in my room, searching for something. It was safe to assume that she hadn’t found anything (including the notebook) or I’d have been dragged away and re-CIA’d by now. I looked around to see if anything was out of place but quickly came to the conclusion that Heather is too smart to have left any trace of having snooped. Except I had just found one of her gems on my floor. So whatever she’d been up to, she’d been in a hurry - under pressure knowing that I could enter and find her here at any moment. In her haste, she must have accidentally brushed the gem from her face, which was careless. I remained calm and composed as the penny dropped. I then stood, walked casually to the waste bin and flicked the gem into it as if it was nothing - an insignificant find - despite the alarming realisation that Heather had planted cameras in my bedroom.