Dreams of Origami (22 page)

Eastern mystics say that Space and Time are subjective concepts; they are but words of common usage, names for forms of thought.

Einstein’s Relativity Theory implies that Space and Time co-ordinates are only the elements of a language that is used by an observer to describe his environment and are not part of any objective reality.

Einstein claimed that the distinction between the past, the present and the future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.

Extract from
The Cosmos of Illusions
by Gideon Wakefield

L
ACEY IS SITTING
at her desk, chewing the ends of her hair. It’s mid-morning and the room is still busy, but she has isolated herself from the chatter of her colleagues, their gently tapping keyboards and rustling paper. She really doesn’t want to be here this morning. She was reluctant to leave Drew and the others, but knew she could make herself more useful by gathering information. When she slipped away at seven-thirty the atmosphere was strangely quiet and still, as if all the little houses were holding their breath, waiting until she had gone before Gainsborough Street staged its next ambush.

She’s supposed to be writing up items from the police handover. The report on the Caxton situation was embarrassing for the officers
concerned, since, no matter how discreetly they phrased the reasons for Fletcher’s withdrawal from the case, they were all aware of her presence and involvement. Langthorn was very positively in charge and had produced sheaves of freshly updated information and action plans, which, although impressive, amounted to absolutely nothing. As Lacey had suspected, Fletcher had stopped searching for Matthew days ago, but they couldn’t actually admit that, not with her sitting there. But at least they will get back on to it now.
Not that they’ll find him that way,
she thinks. It’s eight days now, and his trail will have gone cold; if there ever was a trail.

Langthorn is also in charge of the Tiverton incident. She was only a few doors away when the emergency call came through, so naturally she was asked to attend the scene while the other officers went to the hospital. By now, of course, they’ve caught on to the fact that it was Mrs Tiverton who’d wielded the knife. The pair seem to be reconciled, each taking responsibility for what happened. As the husband is refusing to press charges, it’s down to the police whether to arrest her or not. Langthorn is still undecided.

Lacey has a few other things to follow up from the meeting, including fraud allegations against a member of the local council, which will come as a light relief after what she’s been dealing with recently. She gets down to work, then stops almost immediately, deciding to give Drew a quick call.

‘Yes, of course I’m all right.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘Grouting bathroom tiles. I’m standing on the floor in a bungalow and I’m using a pot of grout and a sponge. It doesn’t get much safer than this.’

‘I’m sorry. I’m probably being over-anxious.’

‘Really? I’d never have guessed. Heard any more about Matthew or the Tivertons?’

Lacey fills him in on what was said at the handover. ‘What about Gideon? Have you seen anything of him?’

‘Yes. I gave him a knock before I left. He didn’t say much, and he looks as if he hasn’t slept for a week. Tom seems a lot better, though.
He ate the bacon buttie I’d made for him, then took one look at the mess in the sitting room and went straight back to bed. There was a police car outside the Tivertons’ house when I drove off. I didn’t see anything of Triss, though.’

‘I’ll try and get back there at lunchtime and have a word with her. At least things are definitely happening now, not that I think it’ll do any good.’

‘OK, I’ll see you later then.’

‘You will be careful, won’t you?’

Gideon has spent most of the morning in his armchair from where he watched the street and the schoolhouse. He saw Lacey leave early for work, then a police car turned up at the Tivertons’ cottage. Drew knocked on his door about eight-thirty, checking up on him, no doubt. Gideon tried to apologize for his behaviour the night before and make some reasonable-sounding excuse, but the words seemed to get caught in his throat. However, he thought he’d managed to assure Drew that he was all right. A few minutes later, he watched Drew’s van drive off. He roused himself enough to make a cup of coffee, and then went back to the vantage point of his armchair, seated like a ship’s captain observing the sea traffic. He was in time to see Bill Henderson return from walking his son’s dogs and stop to talk with Audrey. Then she mounted her bicycle and fought against the wind all the way to the end of the road. Bill walked back to the farm. He seems to be staying there at the moment, no doubt helping the son with the injured arm; not completely out of harm’s way, but not in immediate danger. D.I. Langthorn’s car came and went a couple of times, stopping outside Audrey’s place where Triss is still staying.

Now everything seems quiet. Too quiet. The only movement is the waves rippling across the surface of the field and the sparse trees tossed in the wind. It has turned cold again, and Gideon shivers. But he’s calmer now, centred and focused, the result of years of meditation and mental discipline. But he cannot think, cannot activate the processes of
logic and reason. It’s as if his mind has gone numb. He knows he should be evaluating the situation in the light of the latest evidence presented, building on his hypothesis of parallel existences and devising a plan of intervention for when the next phenomenon manifests. But, despite hours of staring at the street and the horizon beyond, he has produced nothing but the same narrow pattern of thoughts circling around and around each other. Cassandra exists. Everything—all those years of work and study—have been about Gainsborough Street and what is happening now. This is what Cassandra wanted. And Cassandra does exist.

He watches as, in turn, Drew’s and Lacey’s vehicles draw up. The morning has slipped away. It’s Lacey who comes to check up on him this time, and, while declining her offer of lunch, he manages to sound coherent and in control of himself. When she is gone, he decides to take a shower. Experience has taught him the restorative power of water; therefore, it becomes both a physical and a spiritual cleansing. Afterwards, despite not being hungry, he slices an apple and some cheese and makes himself eat.

There is a gentle tapping at the door. This time it’s Triss. ‘Sorry if I’m disturbing you…They said you might not be up to visitors?’

‘Not at all. I felt a bit off-colour last night, but I’m all right now. Would you like to come in?’

‘No, actually I was wondering, if you’re not busy that is…I feel I ought to be over at the house. Only, you did say I wasn’t to be there alone.’

‘Yes, in fact I was hoping to spend some time over there this afternoon. I’ll come right now. Just let me get my jacket, it’s getting quite chilly again.’

‘Good idea. The place will be cold. It’s been virtually unused for days, so I might have to switch the heating on. Crazy, isn’t it, having to turn the central heating on in the middle of July?’

They cross the road together, Triss pulling her thick cardigan tightly around her shoulders.

‘Did I see that woman detective around this morning?’

‘Yes, she came a couple of times. Couldn’t be nicer or more well-meaning.
But I don’t think it’ll make any difference.’

‘I have to say, Triss, you’re looking more relaxed and rested. Audrey must be looking after you well.’

‘Yes, she’s a dear.’ She unlocks the door and lets Gideon in, turning on the lights and shivering. ‘You know, I think I will turn that heating on. Tea?’

While the gas boiler kicks into action, she fills the kettle. Gideon watches her. This is a very different young woman; certainly not the distraught victim’s wife he first encountered a few days ago.

‘Gideon, I should have said this before: you’ve all been fantastic throughout this, giving up your time and everything. And, no doubt, putting yourselves at risk. At first I was in such a state I wasn’t really aware of what was going on, but now I’ve realized what you’ve all been putting yourselves through in order to help us. You, especially, you’ve actually moved in here, left your own home and everything. I don’t know how we’re ever going to thank you.’

‘By “we”, I take it you’re referring to you and Matthew. You talk as if you’re expecting him back.’

‘I know this sounds ridiculous, but when I woke up this morning I knew that it was nearly over. That’s why I wanted to be here this afternoon. I know it won’t be long now, and I need to be ready for him.’

A thousand times Gideon has told himself that instincts should be listened to, if not always trusted. She could be deluding herself, of course; a false hope born of desperation. On the other hand, yes, perhaps she’s right. He reaches out his hand and touches her arm. The only sound is the ticking of the radiators as hot water surges through them, that and the all-pervasive humming. The clock on the wall seems to have stopped.

Gideon is aware that he has fallen asleep. He can remember being in the sitting room at the back of the house, in one of the comfortable cushion-filled chairs, listening to Triss moving about above him.
She said she wanted to tidy up, change the sheets and straighten the bathroom; the acts of a young wife anticipating her husband’s return. But when he looks around, he finds himself beside a familiar river. Familiar, yes, but not like this. Never has he seen its water run this high. Swollen by the current, it twists itself into silver ropes and sudden whirlpools, which again turn and unwind to rejoin the raging flow. Cassandra’s river. She had compared it to the flow of time; how it can be here and now, yet gone and passed, while still not have come into being. Only her river is now a thunderous barrage, gouging away the banks and tearing trees out by their roots. Clumps of debris, like small floating islands, are being swept from the past into the future without a pause for the present. Already, downstream, he can see a bulge of water, blocked by the sheer volume of its own passage; a reverse-flowing current at war with itself. If this is time, then it is out of control.

‘Where are you, Cassandra?’ He raises his voice above the noise of the torrent. ‘What is this place? What is happening to it?’

But no one answers, and the river continues to race onwards.

Footsteps above his head. He’s back in the sitting room and Triss is on the stairs, running down, calling his name. She comes to the doorway, her eyes bright and fearful.

‘Did you hear that, Gideon?’

‘No, what?’

‘Come back into the kitchen. I think it was coming from the workshop.’

He follows her through the hallway, noticing a trail of white mist as she speaks. ‘I thought you’d turned the heating on. Look at our breath. It can’t be far off freezing in here.’

‘I did, you saw me. It can’t be working properly.’

He puts out a hand to the radiator and can feel the heat without touching it. ‘What did you hear?’

‘Voices. Coming from in there, I think.’ She points to the workshop
door. They both move closer, but hear nothing. ‘I swear I wasn’t imagining it. A sort of chanting.’

‘Is the outer door to the workshop still locked? And what about the outside door here, could someone have got in there through the kitchen?’

‘Only if they had a key. I dropped the catch when we came in, and everything else’s been locked up since yester—’ Triss gasps and grabs Gideon’s sleeve. ‘Can you hear it now?’

‘Yes,’ he murmurs, ‘I can hear it.’
But what is it?
he wonders. Chanting, yes, that’s one way to describe it. A faint chorus of voices which seems to have a definite rhythm of emphasis. Monks—a chapel—that’s what came into his mind when Triss described chanting. But this is like no liturgy he has ever encountered. Or is it? There is a familiarity to the repeated phrases, something nudging his memory. Something he heard when he was very young, at school maybe?

He lays a steadying hand on Triss’s shoulder. ‘I’m going to open the door. I’ll understand if you don’t want to be here.’

‘No, this is my house. I want them to know that.’ She reaches, her hand trembling, and slowly turns the handle.

The door swings open and a surge of singsong voices swells and rolls over them. ‘Once four is four, two fours are eight…’ In rows they sit at wooden desks, little ones to the front, the eldest at the back. ‘Three fours are twelve, four fours are sixteen…’ Their backs pulled straight as iron rods, hands folded in their laps. ‘Five fours are twenty…’ On one side, mud-stained boys in knee-breeches. ‘Six fours are twenty-four…’ Girls on the other, pristine in their neat calico aprons. ‘Seven fours are twenty-eight…’ Sunbeams dance on bobbing heads. ‘Eight fours are thirty-two…’ They nod in unison to underscore their mantra. The air is thick with chalk dust and repetition. ‘Nine fours are thirty-six, ten fours are forty…’ Triss slams the door shut.

There is silence.

It is a while before Gideon speaks, his hand still firm on Triss’s shoulder. ‘Try to remember exactly what you saw. We must each, separately, write down what happened, before our rational minds deny it. Triss?’

A moment, then she takes a deep breath. ‘I wasn’t expecting the colours. It should have been in brown and white, you know, sepia, like an old photograph. But the room was full of sunshine. One of the girls had bright red hair.’

‘Can you hear anything now?’

They listen. Triss shakes her head.

‘I’m going to open the door again.’ Gideon leans across her, turns the handle and cracks the door one inch, then another. He opens it wide, stepping into Matthew’s empty workshop, which lies silent and dim in the grey light of a cold afternoon.

The parallel universes theory was first proposed by physicists during the 1950s and 1960s in order to rationalize some of the bizarre findings of quantum physics and general relativity.

What is a parallel universe? Like our own universe, it is a region of Space and Time that contains matter: galaxies, stars, planets, and living beings. In other words, it is similar to and possibly even a duplicate of our own universe. The possibility exists that parallel universes may be extremely close to us, perhaps only atomic dimensions away.

The fact that the future may play a role in the present is a new prediction of the mathematical laws of quantum physics. If interpreted literally, the mathematical formulae not only indicate how the future enters our present, but also how our minds may be able to ‘sense’ the presence of a parallel universe.

Extract from
The Cosmos of Illusions
by Gideon Wakefield

N
OT TOO MUCH FOR ME
, thanks, I’m not that hungry.’ Lacey loosens her hair, tossing it around her shoulders as she draws her chair up to the table.

Drew is in the kitchen dishing up spaghetti Bolognaise. ‘So what did they see, exactly? Not that woman again, was it?’

‘The schoolroom, that’s what they reckoned, complete with all the kids. Gideon said it was another of those playback things. By the time I got here, they were both back over at Audrey’s. Triss was pretty shaken up, but Gideon said he’d stay with her until Audrey got back. And what about Tom? Have you seen anything of him today?’

‘Yeah, he seems to be recovering, although he really lost the plot there for a while. But he’s cleaned himself up a bit and made a start on the house. Mind you, I think the carpet’s beyond redemption. I’ll take the rest of this pasta down to him when we’ve finished.’ Drew carries plates to the table. ‘And what about Gideon: is he all right now? He looked well rattled last night.’

‘He still won’t say what it was at Tom’s place that upset him. It must have been pretty drastic for him to freak out like that—he’s supposed to be used to that sort of stuff. Anyway, he seems OK now. Um, this is good, by the way.’

‘Comes from years of living on student grants. I should write a book:
A Thousand and One Ways to Cook Tagliatelle.
Hey, it’s nice to see you smile.’

‘It’s nice to have some time together—on our own, I mean, without some supernatural drama going on around us.’

‘When this Matthew business is over, we’ll go somewhere quiet. We need some time to sort things out. There’s an awful lot of future to think about.’

‘Yes, I know.’ Lacey feels a little uncomfortable with the direction the conversation has taken. ‘But, as you say, let’s get through this first.’

They continue to eat in silence, Lacey finding she is hungrier than she thought. She helps herself to a sip of Drew’s beer. ‘What do you make of him? Gideon, I mean. I know you don’t go along with all the supernatural stuff, but what about the man himself?’

Drew screws his face up, as if it helps him to think. ‘Don’t know, really. I guess he’s OK. In fact, I think I’m beginning to like him. He doesn’t put it on at all, you know, as if he’s trying to impress people. And that business last night, in a way it made him seem more human.’

‘I think he’s lonely.’

‘Because he hasn’t got some woman in tow?’

‘Well, he doesn’t appear to have, but I know that doesn’t mean anything. No, it’s more that, well, some of the time he seems to be elsewhere.’

‘On another planet, you mean?’

‘No, seriously: it’s as if he doesn’t really belong here, as if he’s got this whole other life somewhere else. He’s a stranger in a strange land.’

Drew looks at her sharply. ‘Now that is beginning to sound like genuine romantic twaddle. I think you’ve been reading—’ But whatever he is about to say is drowned out by an explosion of sound. ‘It’s that bloody bell again!’ He’s on his feet and at the door before the second knell rings out. ‘Whoever’s doing it must be over there. Quick, come on.’

Lacey follows him out onto the street. Gideon is already halfway across the road as Audrey’s door opens and she and Triss come stumbling out. They gather by the schoolhouse gate.

‘OK, who’s missing?’ Drew looks wildly around him. ‘Tom?’

‘No, there he is, in his doorway,’ says Lacey. ‘Bill’s up at the farm and the Tivertons are at the hospital. At least it’s visiting time, and I saw her drive off about half an hour ago. So who else is there?’

‘Somebody must be inside the house.’ Drew goes through the gate, heading for the door.

Gideon is close behind him. ‘I don’t think you should be in there on your own.’

A gust of cold air catches them and Audrey shivers. ‘Good grief, it’s like winter out here. Perhaps we should all go inside.’

The air is repeatedly split by the deep booming of the bell, while the rest of the world lies silent. It’s barely eight o’clock on a summer’s evening, yet the sky is solid with gunmetal cloud, as if the sun has already set. Birds have abandoned their evening song, even the house martins have roosted for the night, and in the fields and hedgerows small creatures have gone to earth.

‘Look at that.’ Triss is pointing to the roof where the weather vane
has been set spinning by another blast of wind. Only, it doesn’t slow as the wind drops, but continues to turn, gathering speed like an ice-skater.

‘We should definitely all keep together,’ says Gideon. ‘Have you got the key with you, Triss?’

‘Yes, here.’

‘Then let’s do as Audrey suggests and go inside.’

Lacey looks anxiously over her shoulder. ‘What about Tom?’

‘No, don’t get him involved,’ says Gideon. ‘His energy is still at a low ebb, he’s too vulnerable.’

‘And we’re not?’ mutters Drew, but he follows Gideon into the schoolhouse.

Triss turns the lights on as soon as they enter. The room is warm. ‘We left in a hurry earlier. I forgot to turn the heating off.’

‘Then we should be grateful for small mercies.’ Audrey warms her hands on a radiator.

They shut the outside door and the noise of the bell is reduced to a tolerable level. Drew is already opening the door to the workshop. Triss watches, her eyes full of apprehension. But that’s all it is—a workshop—almost dark in the premature twilight. Gideon goes in with him, but they both soon emerge.

‘Just like before.’ Drew shakes his head. ‘It’s nothing to do with the bell-rope. It’s not moving, and when you do pull it, the ringing doesn’t stop. I was up on the roof on Sunday morning and the rope was properly attached then.’

‘Oh, you’re not still thinking this is a put-up job, are you?’ There’s an angry edge to Lacey’s voice. ‘If someone had been messing about up there in the meantime, surely they would have been spotted. There’s been one of us around all the time.’

‘Yes, but not necessarily watching the housetop,’ Drew argues.

Exasperated, she turns to Gideon. ‘What should we do?’

‘For a start, it’s important that we don’t generate conflict between ourselves—that won’t solve anything. It would be helpful if we could create a centre of calmness. I suggest we all sit down and take a few deep breaths.’

They follow his instructions, shifting and scraping chairs until they are sitting in an even circle around the table. ‘We look like we’re having a seance,’ Drew remarks. ‘You’ll have us holding hands next.’

‘I might ask you to do that shortly.’ Gideon’s voice is firm and steady. ‘But for now we should all try to relax. Sit quietly for a moment and focus on your individual senses. What can you hear and see? Do you feel anything, smell anything?’

Lacey tries to concentrate as best she can. Now she’s seated, she is aware of her pulse throbbing through her throat and head, and of how deeply she is breathing. She tries to slow everything down. There is a tightness above her stomach, as if her energies are gathering there. She shifts her attention and finds she is growing more aware of the room around her, as if all her senses are being honed to a scalpel’s edge. The palms of her hands and her fingertips are tingling with cold, and ripples run along her arms. The air is charged with electricity. The house around her feels alive, and the tolling of the bell is like a slow heartbeat.

‘Is it getting cold again?’ Triss asks, and the others nod in confirmation.

Audrey is seated directly opposite Lacey. Triss is next to Audrey, but her attention is elsewhere. Her gaze wanders around the room and Lacey can sense her expectation. She is like a frightened doe, alert to any movement and prepared to run in any direction. Drew sits at Lacey’s right side and Gideon to her left.

Drew looks restless,
she thinks.
Is he nervous?
Then she suddenly realizes how blind and stupid she has been: Drew is actually very afraid, and has been all along. That’s what it’s all about—all that pig-headed cynicism and ridicule is a cover-up. He’s been struggling to keep the lid shut tight on some long-hidden fear, something that happened when he was a boy. It was dark and he was terrified…But how does she know this? And the others, too; they are unexpectedly open to her, as if something has shifted in her mind and another layer of understanding has opened up. Is it only her, or are they feeling this, too? No, she doesn’t think so, although everyone’s senses are on
full alert. She turns again to Drew, knowing now that he may be the vulnerable link in the group.

Gideon is speaking: ‘…become aware of the air around us. How does it feel?’

‘It’s alive,’ says Triss, ‘almost fizzing and crackling.’

‘Look at my arm,’ says Drew, ‘all the hairs are standing on end.’ Lacey can hear the tremor in his voice.

‘And it’s getting chillier by the minute.’ Audrey shivers. As if on cue, a blast of cold wind shakes the building.

Gideon allows his thoughts to reach out and touch the energy. He searches for memories of Cassandra. The last time he had dreamed of her—if it was a dream—they had been in this very place, sitting at this very table. He had felt the energy swirling around him, just as it is now.
Where have you felt this before?
she had asked, and he had told her that it was the same pressure that comes when they vie for control of the paper shape, their minds pushing against each other. Only it was not her mind that was creating the pressure, but something in the atmosphere—no, in the aether itself—something pulsating like that soundless humming.

His attention is brought back to the present as—abruptly—the bell stops ringing; the silence that follows seems to resound as loudly as the relentless tolling. The others look relieved, but Gideon knows that this is not a good sign. ‘I think we may be about to experience some activity. Now might be the time to link hands.’ His voice sounds too controlled to be comforting. He takes Lacey’s hand as she reaches for Drew’s. Drew’s grip is so tight it hurts. She tries to look into his face, hoping to reassure him with a smile, but his mouth is set hard and his gaze fixed firmly on the table. Triss allows him to take hold of her with his other hand, barely aware of his touch but fully alert to what may be happening around them. Audrey holds firmly onto Triss and Gideon.
She’s as solid as a rock,
thinks Lacey.

‘Don’t break the circle,’ Gideon says, ‘no matter what happens. Remember it’s only energy, like light or electricity.’

Lacey looks at him, giving a slight nod to signal her readiness. He is thankful for her presence, she knows that. But how does she know?

Silence. The wind moving over the fields. The ticking of hot water moving through metal pipes. Their breath ruffling the air.

‘Can you hear it?’ Triss whispers. They listen, and one by one they catch the sound of voices. Children speaking? Singing? It’s coming from the workshop—or has it now become the schoolroom?

‘Is that what you heard this afternoon?’ whispers Lacey.

Triss nods. ‘Yes, something like it, but what they’re saying is different. It sounds like names.’

‘Shush, listen,’ says Audrey. She is mouthing the words, reciting the litany along with them. ‘Richard the Third, fourteen eighty-three to fourteen eighty-five; Henry the Seventh, fourteen eighty-five to fifteen hundred and nine; Henry the Eighth…It’s the English monarchs, they’re learning them off by heart.’ The chanting becomes stronger and they can all hear it now. There is no mistaking the lesson.

‘Mary the First, fifteen fifty-three to fifteen fifty-eight, Elizabeth the First, fifteen fifty-eight to sixteen hundred and three…’

Drew is sitting with his back to the schoolroom, too afraid to turn and look behind him. His face is white, eyes wide and staring. Lacey grips his hand and she can feel his arm shake.

‘Remember, what you see and hear is not really happening,’ says Gideon. ‘Think of it as something like a video film projected into the room. Keep together. Don’t break the circle.’

‘I can smell that ozone again,’ Lacey murmurs.

‘Displacement of energy.’

‘Whistling,’ Drew speaks. ‘Outside. I can hear someone whistling. What the hell’s going on?’

Lacey glances over her shoulder. A light flashes against the window, like a torch beam. The gate opens and shuts with a loud clang.

‘It’s OK, I think it’s a policeman.’ Lacey watches him prop his bike against the fence and walk down the path. They all hear footsteps as he approaches, whistling something cheerful and familiar.

‘Thank God,’ murmurs Drew.

‘I don’t think so,’ says Audrey, who has a clear view of the garden path through the window. ‘It’s a long time since the police wore those tall helmets. And no officer I know rides an old bike like that.’

Drew tries to pull away.

‘Maintain the circle—don’t let go.’ Gideon holds onto Lacey and Audrey, but the command is directed at Drew. ‘Whatever happens, it can’t hurt us.’

That’s not true,
thinks Lacey, suddenly realizing that they’re all in danger. Not from the children or the policeman, they’re all illusions. It’s the room itself, or the energy flowing through it, that threatens them. And Gideon knows that, too, and he’s trying to protect them. She can feel him searching for something, reaching out, as if for a hand that will come and save them. ‘Look there,’ she says, almost in the hope of distracting the others from the real danger: ‘By the stairs.’