The Whispers of the Sprite

by Joanna Mazurkiewicz

  Despite everything that happened between Gabriel and me, I am glad that I am the only human that was given a chance to enjoy time with him. Russian Christmases are very different from the Western celebrations; Mum is very much the traditionalist and for the ‘holy supper’ she had prepared twelve traditional Russian dishes, which symbolise the twelve apostles. The past few days in the kitchen have been hectic but it’s helped to keep me busy from thinking about Gabriel; it's been almost three weeks since he disappeared from my life and I am slowly convincing myself that he won't be back.

  After the bank holiday we are able to get all the Christmas decorations at half-price, so I take advantage of all the sales. Browsing the streets of London, I notice a new Sprite that appears to be following me; I am certain that Gabriel made sure that someone is looking after me. The new Sprite is slightly shorter than me; he has long silver hair and dark eyes. I feel abandoned by my lover, like an unwanted toy, but I am with Mum so I have to hide how upset I am. I try to calm myself by convincing myself that Gabriel never existed. By the afternoon, everything is almost ready. Around 6pm, I open the front door to the first guest. I smile widely for the first time in weeks as I see Gosia standing on my front door.

  ‘Hello, stranger,’ she says, giving me a tight hug. Her cheeks are cold against mine and I move aside to let her into the warm house.

  ‘I am so glad you are here,’ I say. We walk into the living room while Mum is still busy in the kitchen; she hears Gosia’s voice and shouts something in Polish to her from the kitchen; Mum knows only a little Polish. I roll my eyes, not knowing what she said but Gosia is laughing. I take her to my room, leaving Mum with the last of the preparations. She is too anxious and I don't want to be in the kitchen while she is stressed.

  ‘How are you? It's been so long,’ says Gosia, looking around my room. She looks good with her blue glasses and longer hair.

  ‘I’m great, but I’ve been bored in London; no one has had time to meet up with me,’ I complain.

  ‘I can’t believe what happened in Swansea,’ she says, going to the subject that I was hoping to avoid.

  ‘That was ages ago. I can’t even remember it.’

  ‘Did the police find out who attacked you?’

  ‘No, there are no witnesses and they called recently to say that they still hadn’t found the person responsible. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about that. Tell me, how are you doing?’

  ‘Great actually, I had a fabulous time in Poland.’

  She looks happy and relaxed. She goes on to talk about her course – she is almost finished. We had met in London while we were both working in the Spanish restaurant and had quickly become friends. A year later, Gosia had started her P.H.D course and even though her strong character often overwhelms me, I’ve missed her smart mouth while I’ve been in Swansea.

  ‘How is your research going?’

  ‘Smoothly. I have to admit that I have been partying recently but at the same time I never have a day off as my Ph.D. takes a lot of my time,’ she says, rolling her eyes. ‘What about you? Studying in Wales and living alone without Mummy, how is that? Anyone special filled the place in your heart yet?’ I knew that this question would pop up sooner or later and I can't hide anything from her; she knows me so well. I smile and try to think about the best way to explain what I am going though. I hesitate for a moment.

  ‘Well, my housemate Amy has tried to hook me up with a few people, but there isn't anyone there yet that I could hold on to,’ I say, pursing my lips.

  Her eyes are inquisitive still, searching deeper for an answer but I remain calm. I know that I can't tell her the truth; she wouldn't believe me anyway, she is an academic. Sprites exist only in my imagination, so I am not even going to try.

  ‘Oh, I am sure you won't be single for long; when you come to visit me, you will see what kind of company I am involved with. I am sure I would have more fun in Wales.’

  She is trying to tell me that I should enjoy what I have while I can. Mum enters my room, looking even more stressed out than before.

  ‘Can you go and get the door? I still have a few things to do.’

  We walk back downstairs; I open the door to a smiling Dmitry, he looks pleased to see me and I smile openly at him, knowing his presence will calm Mum down.

  ‘How are you, Ania?’ he asks, coming into the living room.

  ‘Fine, thanks, and how are you?’ I answer.

  After his assurance that he is fine, I explain that Mum is in the kitchen serving up dinner. I also introduce him to Gosia. While Mum and Dmitry are chatting in the kitchen, I mention the story behind my Mother's new romance to Gosia as we finish laying the table. I am starving but refrain from picking at the food on the table. I am finally able to relax and stop the daunting thoughts about Gabriel. Normally, our Christmas feast would start when the first star appears in the dark navy sky, but we haven't followed that tradition for a while. A few minutes after Dmitry's appearance we sit down, the table heaving with thirteen different dishes. Gosia and Dmitry seem to be impressed with the amount of food we have.

  For the first time in a long time I feel relaxed, forgetting about paranormal creatures. Mum starts a prayer in Russian and after that we tuck into the amazing feast. Dmitry tries a bit of everything, admitting that he has missed the tradition and the atmosphere of the orthodox Christmas. He had always been invited to join his friends in the traditional English Christmas meal, which he enjoyed, but British dishes are not the same.

  An hour later I can't move; the amount of food that I have eaten is overwhelming. We relax on the sofa, drinking coffee and exchanging presents while Mum serves traditional Russian biscuits. A few hours later Mum looks tired but happy and I start cleaning up the table with Gosia.

  ‘Are you sure you're OK?’ asks Gosia, while I start washing up the dishes.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I reply, smiling, but I am not a very good liar; pretending in front of my Mother is easy but Gosia is one of my best friends and I can't hide anything from her.

  ‘You have been very reserved this evening, not really yourself.’

  I sigh, knowing that I can't keep suffering any longer.

  ‘When you opened the door, I knew that something wasn't right,’ she adds.

  I purse my lips, contemplating how to begin. It would be so much easier if I could tell her the truth, but I still have to lie.

  ‘It’s nothing worth talking about,’ I say. She folds her arms together and narrows her blue eyes.

  ‘I don’t believe you. Is this about a guy?’ she asks and I nod, turning off the running water. ‘Go on, I won’t judge you.’

  ‘It’s complicated and I’m not sure how to even explain this,’ I feel stupid talking about what’s happened between Gabriel and me. In my heart, I still have a massive hole that is filled with guilt and regret.

  ‘Start from the beginning,’ she advises me.

  ‘He is much older than me. We met when I was in the hospital, I didn’t think that I fancied him in the beginning until George showed up,’ I explain.

  Her jaw drops.

  ‘I thought you dumped George ages ago?’

  ‘Well, I thought that too, but he started calling me and visiting so I couldn’t say no to him, but after I found out that my mother suggested he should see me, I told him to go to hell.’

  ‘Your mother suggested it?’ she asks with disbelief. ‘How does she even know about you two?’

  ‘That's a good question.’ I am reluctant to say any more, but I continue, ‘When George left, I started seeing a new man but I don’t think he was serious. We had a fight before I came to London and I told him to go to hell too.’

  ‘How old is he? What’s his name?’

  ‘Mark and he is older, much older,’ I add, blushing slightly, making up the lies as I go along. Gosia brings up the most intimidating memories with Gabriel. She raises her eyebrows, trying to digest what I am going through.

  ‘Is he over thirty?’

  ‘He is older tha
n thirty,’ I say, feeling more embarrassed.

  ‘Do you think you will see him when you go back to Swansea?’ she asks, still staring at me. I know she didn’t expect such an age gap, but I can't explain this any better. Gabriel is a different kind of man.

  ‘I don’t think that he will see me again after the drama that I created.’

  ‘If you want my advice, I suggest you find a guy in your age bracket. I was involved with an older guy once but he was too possessive, so I dumped him. He wanted to control every part of my life.’ Looking slightly agitated she added, ‘You should forget about this guy and move on.’

  ‘I am trying, but I think I have fallen for him,’ I whisper.

  Gosia spends the night on my bedroom floor. She didn’t want to be alone in her flat. I only have two more days in London myself before I pack everything and return to Wales. Somehow I feel relieved that I told Gosia about Gabriel even though I had to lie about certain aspects. She wouldn’t believe me and I didn't want to put Gabriel at any more risk.

  In the morning, I find a note from Mum, which informs me that she will be out all day. I don't have to guess where she has gone.

  ‘So do you think your Mum is finally sorting her life out?’ asks Gosia, laughing when I show her the note. She knows that I hate Mum’s overprotective character and she often has covered for me in the past.

  ‘It looks like it. She’s stopped calling me every five minutes,’ I explain, realising only now that Mum has stopped leaving me hundreds of missed calls on my mobile, which was always very embarrassing, especially when I was out with friends and my phone just didn't stop ringing.

  ‘He is a nice enough guy; I hope he is serious about her. Despite all her faults, Ania, she loves you very much.’

  ‘I know. Don’t worry, I will be watching him,’ I say and we start laughing.

  After a heavy breakfast, we decide to go for a walk and do a bit of window shopping. It is a gloomy, cloudy day and the rain is pouring from the sky. It is minus two degrees outside when we leave the house. Soon I won’t have any freedom – my life will be taken over by books and assignments, so I am trying to enjoy the time that I have with Gosia.

  We decide to brave the Tube, jumping onto the first available train. I haven't been shopping for a while whereas Gosia is always ahead of me with fashion trends. The familiar Sprite that followed me the other day appears on my left with another handsome, dark-haired fairy. I am trying to keep up with Gosia, who wants to enter every possible shop. The area that we end up in is somewhere in the north of London. The streets are hectic and I notice a lot more Sprites shadowing busy-looking people. Finally, it stops raining and we manage to get a few bargains.

  ‘I need coffee or maybe something stronger,’ says Gosia, winking at me.

  I have to agree with her; shopping is exhausting. We are just about walk into the coffee shop at the corner when I notice a familiar face on the other side of the street. It is the older lady from the restaurant that spoke to me on the stairs; she appears to be in a hurry and her silver hair is wet.

  ‘Ania, what are we waiting for?’ asks Gosia, looking annoyed.

  ‘Hold on, I know that woman across the street and I’ve got to ask her something,’ I start walking in her direction, trying not to lose her.

  ‘What woman?’ I hear Gosia say; I know that I have to speak to the older woman and find out what she meant in the restaurant and why she had been following me. After I cross the street, she disappears around the corner and I begin walking faster. Gosia stops asking questions as she struggles to keep up with my fast pace; the woman is walking quite quickly and it takes an effort to keep up, but after almost twenty minutes of intensive walking Gosia stops me abruptly by holding my arm. I manage to spot the woman as she walks into one of the shops.

  ‘What the hell, Ania? I am not going anywhere until you explain what’s going on.’

  ‘I promise I will, but I need to get to that shop across the road,’ I say, giving Gosia an apologetic look. She is not happy. When we cross the street, I finally realise that I have never been in this part of London. This area is definitely not populated by typical Londoners; instead I recognise a lot of people from Eastern Europe, and Romanian travellers. I lose sight of the woman and Gosia refuses to move any further. We are in the middle of an unknown street. I hesitate, wondering where I should go next.

  ‘We shouldn't be here and you have to explain to me why you are running after someone who you don’t know,’ says Gosia, looking around uncertainly. I ignore her and look at the window of the shop in front of me; I can't see anything inside. Moreover, the sign on the door clearly says that the shop is closed. I bite my lip, hesitating for a long while. I take a deep breath and say:

  ‘I’m going in.’

  ‘What? Where?’

  I walk to the door of the shop, ignoring her, and push the door and my intuition is right – the door isn't locked.

  Gosia doesn't say anything, but I can hear that her breathing quickens while we enter the small shop immersed in darkness. The windows are shaded with dark curtains and the whole place is cluttered. The wall to the right is filled with books, and there are many mysterious-looking figures lying on the floor. It is definitely a real shop; the products that I can't name have price tags on them. I have to stop breathing for a moment because various different aromas are irritating my nose.

  ‘What is wrong with you, Ania? The shop is closed,’ whispers Gosia, trying to push me back toward the street.

  ‘I just want to talk to her,’ I whisper back. Then we hear movement in the back of the store and a short dark-haired woman appears, staring at us with an angry expression on her face.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I begin, pressing my lips together nervously. ‘I am looking for a woman who came in here a few minutes ago.’

  The woman walks closer, gazing from Gosia to me. She has dark-brown eyes and long black hair; her skin is much darker than mine. She is wearing a long, colourful skirt and red top. I assume that she is a Romanian traveller but I don't want to say anything right now; she doesn't look happy that we are inside.

  ‘Can’t you read the sign on the door?’ she snaps, coming closer to me. I don't move, but Gosia grabs my arm and begins squeezing it desperately. I smile even though she is showing me that I am not welcome.

  ‘Yes, I did. I’m sorry, a woman that I know came in here a few minutes ago,’ I continue, slowly losing confidence. Her dark eyes are hypnotising.

  ‘There isn't anyone here apart from me.’

  ‘OK, I made a mistake, I’m sorry,’ I reply, defeated, and I am just about to move back and leave. My heart is beating like crazy and I realise I’m not sure that whatever I saw actually happened.

  ‘I can read your fortune from the cards,’ she adds unexpectedly, and I freeze once again. Gosia is almost by the door; her eyes are screaming no but I am curious; no one has ever offered me a tarot reading. I expect that it wouldn't cost me a significant amount of money. Anyway, I just barged into this woman’s shop knowing that it was closed.

  ‘Yes, why not?’ I say slowly.

  ‘Ania, I think we should go back,’ snaps Gosia but I ignore her. My mind is blank while I walk toward the back of the shop; Gosia follows as we get to a thick dark curtain that separates the entrance from the other part of the shop.

  ‘Your friend has to stay here. You follow me.’

  She shoots Gosia an odd look. I try to give my best friend an apologetic glance before vanishing under the curtain. Gosia looks stunned.

  ‘My name is Herne. Sit down so we can start the reading,’ she says, showing me a small chair in the corner. In front of me, there is a table and another chair. I am feeling dizzy and nervous. I am not sure what to expect. Herne sits down opposite me; she lights a candle and closes her eyes, shuffling the cards. I swallow hard, trying to think positive thoughts and at the same time wondering why I agreed to do this.

  ‘The cards will reveal the truth about your worry.’

  Herne continues t
o shuffle the cards. After a few more seconds, she places the cards on the table and begins turning them over one by one. My throat is dry and I am unable to speak. My heart hammers in my chest. Her wide dark eyes narrow while she is staring at the cards.

  ‘What can you see?’ I ask, finally able to find my words.

  ‘Death is close,’ she says and lifts her eyes to look at me. ‘I can see her in the cards. You escaped, but she is watching and waiting for another opportunity.’ I am trying to analyse everything she is saying, but nothing makes much sense.

  ‘Who is watching?’

  ‘Death is still with you but there is someone else that also wants your power. Someone that is bound to your desire wants to possess your power. You will be travelling very soon.’ I am confused; I am not sure what ‘power’ she means.

  ‘I don't understand,’ I say, feeling that I might have made a mistake coming here and agreeing to this reading.

  ‘The man that you love is weak. He is unable to decide if his feelings are real,’ she continues. I freeze, knowing who she is talking about. I hold my breath, waiting to hear more.

  ‘The situation will change; you will lose what you value the most.’

  ‘So does he love me?’ I ask, hoping that she could tell me more about Gabriel.

  ‘He is torn between two souls. The feelings he has for you are new for him, he doesn't understand them,’ she says touching my hand. My eyes feel heavy and an unfamiliar pain spreads around my chest. My mind is not coping well with everything that she has said. I desperately want to leave. I feel like I am going to vomit.

  ‘I’m sorry but I’ve got to go,’ I snap, getting up. She grabs my hand.

  ‘He is afraid of those feelings, but you will lose what you value the most. Remember this.’

  She frees my hand and I leave the room with my heart thumping. Gosia is still waiting for me in the shop, looking at her watch. She looks angry when she notices me.