Worlds Between

by Sherry D. Ficklin

  “Good girl,” Blod said quietly.

  She gave the doctor one long, sad look that he returned, then swiftly took herself out of the room. Bickerstaff started to speak, but then coughed loudly and violently for a few moments against the wall. When he spoke again his voice was lower and gruff.

  “We ought to be going soon Henri; that train won’t wait for us.”

  Henri checked his beautiful brass coloured watch and from this close I could read the name ‘A.P. Haugen’ on its side. His father’s watch, most likely. Something dark came over his young features as he looked into the clockface.

  “We have ages yet,” he protested. His other hand clamped tight around mine.

  Bickerstaff sat down again and rubbed his face. He was pink in the cheeks and I was pretty sure he didn’t want to get to the station any faster than Henri; he just needed to get away from what he was leaving behind at Ty Gwyn.

  “Did you say goodbye to Mam and Leigh?” I asked Henri.

  He nodded, smiling again, but something deeper had settled behind his happy eyes. “She’s getting him ready for school,” he explained, “but I think my uniform upset her.”

  “I’ll bet she crushed your bones all the same,” I answered, trying to chuckle.

  “Oh yeah,” Henri replied, “I’ll go to training with bruised ribs now.”

  I wanted to give him some bruised ribs of my own, but it was awkward with Bickerstaff still in the room. I rather thought he was sensing that himself when he rose from his perch and made a start towards the door, but he’d hardly reached the handle when it swung open at him again. The doctor leapt back in shock as a flurry of tears and flowing blonde hair rushed back into the room and accosted him. Blod wrapped her arms around Bickerstaff tightly and started kissing him before we’d even had the chance to look away. It all happened so quickly that I saw his hands rushing up into her hair before I even registered that I shouldn’t be watching.

  I looked at Henri who was also watching-but-not-watching the sudden outburst of affection. He gave me an awkward smile, his gaze fixing on mine thoughtfully as the half-grin fell away. Bickerstaff’s lungs heaved when Blod finally released him from her marathon kiss, but before he could get breath to speak she was stepping away out of his arms. Her mouth was open a little, her bright eyes streaming with tears as she turned and suddenly ran away. Bickerstaff gave us both a fleeting, red-faced look, and then went after her with haste.

  As soon as he was gone Henri picked me up out of my chair and took me over to the sofa, setting me down before he knelt on the floor in front of me. He put his smooth hands on my knees, feeling the fabric of the navy dress, staring at it thoughtfully. When he finally looked up at me again his face was serious, the kind of looks he’d worn when I first met him.

  “You’ll wear this again the day I come home,” he said, “Promise me.”

  “Promise,” I answered, “Even if I’m ninety six.”

  He half smiled, leaning up towards me, pulling my arms close to wrap them around his neck. I tucked my legs under the sofa to bring him closer still until our noses were touching.

  “I thought you were saving this kiss for… after?”

  “I’ve changed my mind.”

  His kiss was deep and sweet, warm lips and steady breaths as he squeezed me close to him. It felt like someone had released a flock of birds into my chest; every part of me trembled and fluttered as I firmly decided that this was the best feeling of my life. Until I remembered Henri’s claim the week before, that he didn’t need to kiss me yet because he had faith that he’d be coming home. If he’d changed his mind about kissing me, had he changed his mind about his chances of returning too? I thought he must have felt my hesitation when he broke our kisses, searching my face desperately like he wanted to recall every freckle.

  “I’ll be with you,” I promised, “I’ll be right there to talk to you, to help you through everything.”

  “I know,” he nodded breathlessly.

  He was scared suddenly; I could see it in the widening of his eyes, the way his hands were quivering where they held my waist. I stroked his dark hair down from its usual sticky-out mess.

  “You’re going to be fine,” I soothed, sucking in a deep breath, “You’ll get through it, just like everything else so far.”

  “With your help,” he added quickly, his lips trembling.

  “With my help.”

  I pulled him to me and kissed him again; trying to kiss away every frightening thought that was rushing through his head. We stayed wrapped in each other’s arms until Idrys came back to drag him away. I followed him out to the car in the fastest crutch-walk I’d ever done. Bickerstaff was sitting in the back of the truck with his head in his hands and Blod was nowhere to be seen. Henri got in beside the doctor and waved to me as the farm truck set off down the cobbles. I waved long after he’d gone out of focus, so hard that my arm burned with the effort for days after he’d gone.

  Blod hardly spoke to anyone for three full days after Henri and Bickerstaff had left for training. The only person permitted to enter her radio-filled room was Ness Fach and even she was unceremoniously kicked out after about half an hour at a time. I made the strenuous walk up the steep stairs to try and show Blod that I wanted her to talk things out with me about Bickerstaff, but all I got for my gargantuan effort was a door slammed in my face. The only upside was that her tantrum had forced Mam back into her proper role running Ty Gwyn, which resulted in a lot less crying as she redirected her emotions into producing a new series of ‘rationing recipe’ cakes and biscuits recommended by some of the other ladies at the chapel. They tasted foul, but Leigh and I praised her efforts all the same.

  As much as I still disliked Blod intensely most of the time, I felt rotten that I could see into the places and know the things that she must have been wondering alone in her room. I had visited Henri several times already at the training camp but now that he was regimented we couldn’t seem to get a single moment where there wasn’t someone else in the room with him or, more usually, where he wasn’t running, leaping or aiming to shoot at something with a beastly drill sergeant screaming down his ear. I had come to know this master of torture as Sergeant Cross and so far there hadn’t been a single moment where his face didn’t suit his name. I was actually starting to enjoy Doctor Bickerstaff’s company too, now that he was a couple of hundred miles away, especially when he railed about Cross and the abuse he was throwing at Henri on a daily basis.

  “He doesn’t like it because you’re foreign,” Bickerstaff said one night as he lay on his simple bed looking up at the ceiling.

  “The French are foreign and they’re dying for our cause,” Henri murmured.

  He was lying on his side on the next bed, fumbling in a drawer for something irately. I’d noticed the drop in his mood since he’d stopped being able to speak to me. When he looked down into the drawer I looked with him to see a brand new pad of paper and a pencil just as he pulled them out of the darkness. Henri sat up to put the pad on his lap.

  What are you up to? I asked.

  I felt him smile for just a second, then he picked up the pencil and started to scribble, focusing hard on the page.

  I found a way to talk to you.

  The words lifted my heart. You’re brilliant, I thought, you’re just brilliant.

  I know. So are you.

  “What are you doing?” Bickerstaff asked.

  Henri looked up from the page for a moment to focus on him, but the doctor was unbuttoning his shirt to get ready for bed so Henri looked away again sharply, probably thinking more of what I’d be able to see than of the other man’s privacy.

  “I’m writing a letter to Kit,” he lied expertly.

  “You’ve got it bad for that girl, haven’t you?” Bickerstaff asked in a less than kind tone.

  I felt Henri grin. “I really do,” he answered. His cheeks were burning just a little in the seconds after he’d said it out loud.

  “She’s trouble,” the doctor war
ned, but then I heard him let out a sigh, “They’re all bloody trouble.”

  “You’d know better than me,” Henri retorted, chancing another look at Bickerstaff. He had gotten into bed, but he continued to gaze upwards and broke into a sad little smile at Henri’s words. Henri gulped dryly before he spoke again. “You should write to her, tell her how you feel.”

  Bickerstaff laughed a little. “The only thing that’s important is how Blod feels, and she doesn’t feel the same way I do. That ship has very much sailed, Henri. You’ll understand when you’re older that some things just can’t be fixed, no matter how hard you try.”

  She’s crying over him, I told Henri, in her room, with the radio blasting where she thinks we can’t hear her.

  “She kissed you goodbye,” Henri pressed, “Don’t tell me that means nothing.”

  Bickerstaff turned his head, his eyes narrowing at Henri. “I think it’s time you kept your advice to yourself,” he spat, his nasty side rearing its ugly head. He turned over in the little bed and slammed his head down on the thin pillow like a petulant schoolboy. Henri sighed and went back to his pad of paper.

  So much for brothers in arms.

  He’s as messed up as she is, I thought, they deserve each other, no mistake.

  I’ll work on him another time to write that letter. I think he’s tempted.

  Do, or I’m going to get hell here for months the way Blod’s going on. I want to smash that radio to bits as it is.

  Please don’t. You are not famed for keeping your cool.

  You’re a cheeky devil on paper, you know.

  Henri grinned widely for just a moment before he went back to his usual expression. He looked up into the bunk house full of beds that were slowly filling with countless other young men. I knew that the lights would go out soon, removing any chance of reading his page. I waited, watching Henri stare at the paper, those familiar nerves creeping into his spine. He tapped his pencil on the page a few times like he was going to start writing, but then, very slowly, he brought the nib around and drew a very faint heart instead.

  ***

  Henri had just a fortnight of training before he’d be shipped off to join the 7th Armoured Division trudging through the sand in the African heat. I spent some time out by our tree trying to convince myself that there was no need to worry about him, but the season’s shift sent a cold breeze to numb my skin as if to tell me that my warmest wishes were not enough to keep him safe. I pulled my knitted cardigan tight around my shoulders, hugging my arms around my body and wishing that Henri was there to hold me instead. It was painful to think of his strong arms and warm kiss when I could no longer reach them.

  Whispers in his head and scribbled words on paper were all I had now to keep me sane. I knew full well what I’d be like if I didn’t have those at least; the prime example of separation and grief was still stomping around Ty Gwyn in her beautiful high heeled shoes. I shuddered in the cold under the leafy canopy that rustled with the wind, but I held fast to my promise. I had asked Blod to meet me out here and I was certain that she’d give in to curiosity eventually. I heard her disgruntled huffing for a long time before she came into proper focus as she clomped across the field.

  “Mam says if we die of pneumonia she won’t be held responsible,” Blod griped as she sat herself down beside me and leant against the tree.

  “I can’t risk showing you this in the house,” I said, biting my lip a little.

  The Celtic beauty’s interest was piqued, I could tell, though she continued to scowl and narrow her eyes at the cold wind whipping up around us. I steeled myself, taking a deep breath before I flung my hands out and steeped my fingers to the bridge of my nose.

  “Okay,” I began, “This is going to sound complicated and impossible, but what I’m going to tell you is true, and I can prove it to you.”

  Blod was already judging me, her eyes shone with interest and a mocking sort of amusement, like she was ready to pounce with every wicked jibe she knew. I could feel my cheeks reddening before I’d even really said anything, not a good sign, but I pressed on against my will and my pride.

  “Henri and I aren’t related, not at all.”

  “Then how do you know him?” Blod demanded, slapping my arm a little.

  “I found him… with my mind.” I tore myself away from Blod’s face so I wouldn’t have to see the look she was bound to be giving me. “I have, well, your Bampi calls them psychic powers.”

  The snort that escaped Blod was both unladylike and extremely loud.

  “What a load of rubbish!” she exclaimed gleefully.

  “I can prove it,” I said quietly. Blod calmed a little and I looked back in her laughing eyes. “I can step into your head; speak to you in your mind.”

  “Oh yeah?” She folded her arms and set her mouth in a smirk that reminded me of a certain doctor. “Go on then.”

  So I did. Without another word I put myself quickly into the right frame of mind, slipping out of my consciousness and directly into hers. For a moment she was still watching me, my skinny form hunched over and wrapped in a cardigan with my hands over my eyes. She felt like she was going to burst out laughing, prideful and fairly cruel.

  Do you believe me now?

  All mirth and mockery went flying out of Blod in the huge shriek that she gave. She scrabbled away from me on the grass, gasping and watching me carefully.

  Check my lips, I thought, they aren’t moving. I’m in your head.

  A fluttering of panic gathered on Blod’s chest.

  “You can’t hear my thoughts, can you?” she asked fearfully.

  Fortunately for both of us, no. But I can see through your eyes and feel your emotions. Don’t panic so much. I can’t hurt you.

  Blod took a moment to gather a fair amount of oxygen back into her throbbing lungs before she could think straight again. She did all the things to test me that Henri had first tried, how many fingers behind her back, what was she looking at, did she have her eyes open or shut. It was all easy, and when she was as convinced as I could make her I left her mind again and shook out my body against the numbing cold of keeping still for so long.

  “So you can see Henri any time you want?” she asked. I didn’t miss the bitter note in her tone. I nodded, trying not to smile quite so happily. “How is he? What’s the place like?”

  “It’s all very hard and physical,” I explained, “He’s always aching and tired. Bickerstaff says Africa will be much worse, but frankly I don’t see how.”

  Blod’s lip dropped, her expression one of utter hurt. “Steven spoke to you?”

  “No of course not,” I added apologetically, “He doesn’t have a clue I’m there. But he speaks to Henri, when he’s not in a mood.” I hesitated a moment, looking down at the dying autumn leaves under my hands. “I think he misses you terribly.”

  “Did he actually say that?”

  “Well, no,” I mumbled. I felt Blod’s posture drop beside me. “But it’s so obvious. He snaps at Henri like a bulldog when he even mentions your name. He’s tormented.”

  I saw a flash of satisfaction come over Blod’s perfect features, but it soon faded to leave her deep in thought again.

  “I can’t stand seeing you upset like this, thinking he doesn’t care about you,” I rushed on, trying to get all the explanation out before she could stop me, “But please don’t tell anyone about what I can do. Mum says it could be very bad for me if people found out.”

  “It’s not that I think he doesn’t care,” Blod said quietly, “I know he cares.” She pulled her knees up to her jaw and rested on them, hugging her flowing dress to her legs. “When he left the other day, he gave me these papers. Bank papers, they were. He’s sold his house and put all this money away, see? And if he dies out there, Ness and I get the lot.”

  “I suppose that’s quite sensible,” I said, though I didn’t believe that was the only reason Bickerstaff had turned in all his worldly possessions. According to our last conversation, the young doctor
was completely certain that he wouldn’t survive his post in the war.

  “But he actually sold the house!” Blod said in less than a squeak, tears forming slowly at the corner of her eyes. “He’s made it feel like he won’t be coming back.” I put out a hand to pat her knee and to my surprise she grabbed it and held onto me tightly. “You’ll keep an eye on him for me, won’t you?”

  “Of course,” I promised, “I’ll tell you everything I can.”

  We sat in a silence for a few moments until Blod seemed to realise that she was still latched onto me. She let go and dusted herself down proudly, pushing the water from under her eyes as she stared at the ground thoughtfully.

  “Can you find anyone you want to with this psychic lark?”

  The sudden question made me stammer. “Well, um, more or less. I’ve been getting better and better at sort of… targeting people.”

  Blod paused fearfully, taking a little breath.

  “Can you find Ieuan?” she asked.

  It wasn’t as though the thought hadn’t occurred to me. In fact it had come to me no sooner than I’d heard he was missing, but I had pushed the idea of looking for him deep down into my head and tried not to feel the guilt pressing in on my thoughts every day. In truth I was scared to do it, scared to search in case the worse had come true. I had no way of knowing what it would be like to put my mind into the head of a dead man and absolutely no desire to find out. Idrys hadn’t asked me to look for him either, some silent understanding between us, perhaps, that it was better to hope than have one’s worst fears confirmed. Blod clearly didn’t have those kind of concerns.

  “I can try,” I said, voice trembling. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to, but there was no way that I could say no to Blod, she’d lost so much already this summer.