Chapter 13.
“T…T…T…T”
“Terri?” she questioned.
Nat nodded.
“That would be me.”
She was dressed the way he remembered her, in a white blouse that hung loosely from her, white slacks, a look so casually perfect, as was the way that she seemed to belong in that room, in that chair, as she had in Nat’s flat. The only difference now was that her face was white, so white, like she had put make up on, like she was supposed to be playing in some avant-goth band and had just forgotten to change her clothes.
That and the fact that she was bleeding. From the left corner of her mouth, a light trace of red that went down to the bottom of her chin and disappeared. It added a strange, vampish quality to her looks and he half expected to see fangs growing at the corners of her mouth.
“Surprised to see me?” she asked and she draped her left hand forward, as if she expected him to kiss it. But as he looked at it he realised what she was actually showing him, the gap where one of her fingers should have been, where instead there was a bloody stump, where blood still trickled out. It looked so bizarre against her white skin and the whole effect looked like some carnival costume.
She smiled and Nat pulled himself back on the bed, trying to press himself as close to the headboard as possible.
He had no idea whether to feel relieved or alarmed. Alarmed seemed better.
“T..T…T…T”
“You’ve said that already. Terri. That’s my name. It’s not that hard to remember.”
He gulped. “Te… Terri. Sorry. It’s just that I…”
“Thought I was dead?” her voice quiet, innocent.
“I… well… I…”
There was a knock on the door. “Room service.”
They both looked at each other. Eventually Terri said. “Nat, I’m your guest. I think you need to answer the door and act like a proper host.” ‘Said’ didn’t’ do her speech justice, Nat realised vaguely. Her words came out as a kind of drawl, a long, languorous flow of words that seemed to hang in the air before fading out sleepily and leaving a trace of perfume.
His eyes fixed on hers, he tried to move but found he couldn’t and so he just smiled, stupidly, until there was a rapping on the door again, more persistent, somewhat annoyed.
“Mr. Smith! Room service!”
“How dull” Terri said.
Somehow Nat understood that she was talking about him, and he jumped up, fell backwards onto the bed as the sheets around his neck dragged him back down, shouted out something muffled and incoherent, pulled himself back up, tugged at the sheets until they came away from the bed, and dragged himself over to the door, half dressed, shirt torn, sheets and bedding dragging behind him. He opened the door to a see a small man, neatly dressed, holding a tray in front of him, with a bottle in an ice bucket and two glasses. The man screwed up his already strange face as he saw Nat and spat out “Mr. Smith.”
“It’s Jones, actually” said Nat, but the man wasn’t listening. He had taken one step forward, about to walk into the room, seemingly about to barge Nat out of the way, but he had suddenly stopped, as if he had seen something strange. Nat glanced back to see what could only be described as a wreck – bedclothes all over the place, some dark stains on the otherwise beige carpet (strange? What were they?), his own trailing sheets as if he had dressed up at being a ghost, and Terri’s strange, far more ghostly form, hanging over the chair. As if to add to the effect, the overhead light flickered and went out for a split second before coming back on. They both glanced up and the man gulped, and took a step back.
“I’ll clean it up…” said Nat quickly but the man didn’t seem to hear him. He thrust the tray towards Nat, who just managed to grab it before the man let go. The bottle, upside down in the ice bucket, was tossed to one side and the whole thing started wobbling dangerously. They were both silent for a second, both watching it, both waiting to see if it would fall or not but neither making any move to stop it.
It didn’t fall. The man breathed out a fraction, relieved. And before Nat could say anything he turned sharply, clicked the heels of his shiny shoes, and marched quickly down the corridor, leaving Nat facing empty space in front of him and the unknown behind him.
He walked back into his room and heard the door click softly shut behind him.
“Maybe you want to put that down and pour us a drink” Terri continued in her dreamy, almost surreal voice, and he realised, again, that he had been standing there, staring at her, at her distant, unreal beauty.
“Of course” he managed to say. He dropped the tray and they both watched as it fell to the floor, as the glasses exploded on impact. The bottle itself seemed to have a life of its own, dancing out of the ice bucket and swirling in the air before landing and imploding on the wooden floor.
“A shame” Terri sighed. “That was very expensive champagne.”
“Oh, Jesus, sorry” and Nat fell to his knees, starting to pick up the pieces of glass. The first piece he touched sliced another cut on his palm, and he cried out.
Terri looked over him in her bored way. “Oh, leave it darling. They’ll do it for you. That’s why we’re in a hotel.”
He gulped and went back, sat on his knees on the floor.
“I…”
“You need to stand up for yourself, darling. Stop worrying so much.”
“I don’t understand…”
She sighed. “No, of course you don’t. Why are you so frightened of me?”
“Well… I… I mean… I think maybe I…”
“You think you hurt me?” She smiled. “No… you think you killed me. You think it’s your fault, don’t you? And you can’t decide if I’m real or not.”
Nat looked at the broken bottle and dearly wished he could have a drink. Getting down on his knees and licking the floor seemed a bridge too far. “Do you have a cigarette?” he asked.
She smiled. “I didn’t realise you smoked” and with a flick of her wrist, a packet flew through the air and landed by him. Cool, slim line, all white cigarettes of course, in a silver container with a lighter attached. He pulled a cigarette out and lit it, breathing in deeply. “I don’t” His voice was steady for the first time, “but it’s been a weird day.” He blew smoke out over the sign that read “No Smoking. A £5000 fine will be charged if you have been found smoking in this room”. Somehow, it didn’t seem to matter.
“You’ll have to decide how real I am. But I’m not dead, don’t worry.”
Nat closed his eyes and felt huge waves of relief flood through him. He hadn’t quite realised how worried he was. Or maybe he had, maybe he just hadn’t realised how much he was hoping that he would hear those words, and see her face, and know that his worst fears hadn’t been real, that he could go back to … well, back to the dullness of his life.
“Thank God” and he breathed out. “Oh, thank God.” Feeling a little braver, he leaned forward, maybe just to make sure that she was real, that she wasn’t dreaming. He heard, and felt, glass crush beneath his knees and cut through his jeans to his flesh, but he didn’t really care.
“But… what happened?” he asked at last.
“What happened where, darling?” she smiled, as if she knew exactly what he meant. Of course she did.
“In my flat. What happened in my flat” he asked with a new-found urgency. “I went out to get your drink, and then I came back, and neither of you were there, but that’s not what Joshua said, he said that we were… I mean” he blushed suddenly, thinking of what Joshua had told him, “I mean, you know… but that’s not what I remember at all. I just remember finding your…”
“My…?”
He gulped. “Your…” and he pointed vaguely at her hand.
She followed his gaze and studied her hand, as if noticing it for the first time. “Ah!” she exclaimed. “My missing finger! That’s what you mean, isn’t it?” and he nodded, feeling its warmth in his pocket but not daring to take it out. W
hat could he do, give it back?
She pulled herself out of the chair with a swiftness that surprised him, and dropped to her knees facing him, all the dreaminess gone, suddenly urgent, suddenly serious. She didn’t seem to notice that her bare legs were steeped in glass and champagne as her bright white eyes stared straight into his.
“It wasn’t you that killed me, Nat. Don’t trust him.”
“But…”
She grabbed his wrists, surprisingly fiercely. “They’ll look for me. They’ll look for me, for the Moondance. You mustn’t let them find me. I need you, Nat.”
“I don’t understand?” he asked, desperate, his hope shattered suddenly. “I thought you said you weren’t dead? What do you mean?”
She shook her head. “Things aren’t that simple, I’m sorry. But don’t worry. I’m different.”
“Different how?” but she put her finger to his lips and shook her head.
“But… what happened? Terri? What happened that night?”
There was a sudden, harsh rapping on the door. “Joshua Reeves?” a gruff male voice shouted. “We know you’re in there! Open up this fucking door before you regret it!”
Nat turned to face the door as he saw it literally shake on its hinges. “What the?” he turned back round to Terri, but she was gone.
White Eyes Page 11