Perfectly Reflected (20 page)

It looked like she realised that her opportunity to get the truth had passed. She sighed a little and took my hand, patting it gently. “You don’t have to bottle it up, Alex, whatever it is. Sharing can be good.”

“Th … thanks for the offer, Reverend, but there’s nothing I want to say.”

“I don’t like letting you go like this. You’ve had some dark thoughts today, I’ll warrant.”

She didn’t need to be a clairvoyant to guess that; just looking at the state of me it was clear that I wasn’t having a good day. “I’ll be fine,” I protested. “Just a bit of an upset, that’s all.” I wiped my fingers over my cheeks, hoping to catch that last tear and make myself look a little less frazzled.

“If you say so, dear.” She patted my hand again, and then reached inside the voluminous cassock. She pulled out a little white card. “Here, take my number. If you want to talk, at any time, please don’t hesitate to call.”

I took the card and pretended to read it closely, although I could see nothing through the film of tears. It was rude to refuse it, but I could stick it in a bin as soon as I got outside. “Thank you,” I said with as much sincerity as I could muster. “I promise I’ll think about it.” I smiled as much as I could manage, which was little more than a twitch of the lips, then got to my feet. She also stood.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” she announced, falling into step with me as I started to move down the long nave to the exits. The place was still packed with people, and the usual quiet was turning into more of a hum of conversation. As we walked I was suddenly overwhelmed by the smell of sausages. Beneath my feet was a brass-coloured grating, below which I could see the Cathedral Café. The smell made me feel quite sick, so I increased my speed as much as was possible, given the crowds. Reverend Waters kept pace effortlessly despite her age. Finally I made it to the exit turnstile.

“Thank you again for your offer,” I said, finally looking her in the eyes. I was was struck by the understanding in them.

“Anytime, Alex, I mean it. And please keep the card – you might find you need it.”

I nodded briefly, unable to drag myself away from her gaze.

“Remember that there are a lot of unhappy souls here, Alex. Keep the faith.” With one last squeeze of my hand she was gone, lost in the crowds of people.

What did she mean by that? I turned the phrase over in my mind as I walked back out into the frenetic activity and heat outside the cathedral. I held the card in my hand and as I passed the first bin I reached out to drop it inside. But something made me hesitate. I had the unsettling feeling that the Reverend Waters knew something I didn’t. I slid the little white card into the back pocket of my jeans and started the long walk back to Waterloo.

Beesley

I let myself go numb as I started the long trip home. I didn’t want to think about the fact that my plan had failed; that I hadn’t been able to see Callum after all. Having given myself some hope I now felt even worse. I walked down Ludgate Hill and was about to cross the road to walk up Fleet Street on the other side when I realised where I was. Right under my feet, somewhere underneath the pavement or the tarmac, was the River Fleet.

There
was
a way to be with Callum; I just had to be brave enough to take it.

Unconsciously I started walking down towards the river, to Blackfriars Bridge. It was a busy road, packed full of cars and taxis, and a nightmare to cross. As I got closer to the bridge I could see the entrance to the underpass that also took you to the station and the Tube. Almost on autopilot I walked down the slope, looking for directions to the right exit. Callum had told me that the water from the Fleet poured into the Thames underneath the bridge, so I followed the signs to the Embankment.

The world around me was muffled somehow, detached from what I was doing. The people’s voices were thick, and I couldn’t decipher any words. I just kept moving, one foot in front of the other, with no plan except to get to my destination. The underpass was a warren of tunnels with about eight different exits, and as I selected the one I wanted I became aware of a strange beating noise
in front of me. When I turned the last corner I was almost bowled over by the noise; a group of buskers were playing enthusiastically further along the corridor. The noise was deafening, and the music appalling. There was an accordion player who seemed to be bashing out some sort of polka, a guy with a trumpet whose ear-splitting contribution was entirely different, and two others beating old tin cans. They all smiled at me hopefully, but I shoved my hands in my pockets and kept my head down as I hurried by. The noise followed me like a wave, and it wasn’t until I was actually out on the riverbank that I could even hear myself think.

The footpath beside the river was unexpectedly wide where it went under the bridge, and it was very dark after the bright sunshine. There was no one around and I waited for a few moments while my eyes adjusted to the light. I peered over the metal handrail, trying to see exactly where the water of the Fleet emerged, but I couldn’t be sure, not from directly above. I looked around and saw that the staircase up to the bridge might give a slightly better view as it was suspended over the river. But it was about thirty paces away, so it wouldn’t be great. It was also back out in the sunshine.

I walked over and got out as far from the bank as I could, then tried to peer around the stairs to see. The gloom was even more difficult to interpret from there, so I shielded my eyes from the sun and waited to see if details would emerge. Finally I was able to pick out a slightly darker patch on the brick wall of the bank; underneath the patch the wall was streaked with green algae, and next to it was a rusty old ladder. There didn’t seem to be much water coming out of it at all. I had been expecting a swirling torrent, but this was no more than a dribble.

Once I had gone back round under the bridge and peered
over the railings again, I was able to pick out the ladder, and for a moment I debated jumping over and climbing down, but it was obvious that there wasn’t enough water to drown in. If I was to jump in there all I would do was drown in the muddy Thames.

I slumped down on the railing, defeated; I didn’t even have the option of becoming a Dirge. Callum was as lost to me as ever. This time the tears didn’t come though; none were left. I felt like an empty shell. The rest of my life stretched ahead of me, and all of it would be without him.

It was a slow journey as I walked listlessly from the station back home. I shut the door behind me with relief, knowing that Mum and Dad wouldn’t be back until the following afternoon, and Josh was away, so I wouldn’t have to make conversation or think of any excuses for not eating. I could just sit. I went to the bathroom to wash my face and jumped when there was a loud knocking at the front door.

I groaned to myself. It was bound to be Grace, and, much as I loved her, I just wanted to be alone. I didn’t want to talk about Catherine, or to have to try to talk about Callum without sobbing. I was desperately trying to think of an excuse so that I could stay on my own as I opened the door, and was very surprised to see Lynda.

“Hi, Alex, this is good of you. Yet again it really helps me out! Are you sure that it’s going to be OK?” She spoke quickly as Beesley shot past me and tried to slip his lead. She hauled him back.

“I’m sorry? I don’t quite…”

“Josh said that you’d be happy to give Beesley his evening walk. He mentioned it when I saw him this morning.”
She hesitated, seeing the look on my face. “He didn’t tell you, did he?”

I shook my head briefly, automatically reaching for the lead as the puppy had wound himself around my legs in his excitement.

“Look, don’t worry, if it’s not convenient I can easily do it myself.”

I looked down at Beesley; his chocolate-brown eyes were wide and he was jumping up and down, trying to lick me. With my legs tied together with the lead it was all I could do to keep my balance. There was nothing but joy in the little dog; everything was perfect for him. It wouldn’t do me any harm to spend some time with him.

“No, it’s fine. Josh didn’t tell me but I’d love to take Beesley out.”

“As long as you’re positive. Don’t let him pull you over this time either. You don’t want a matching one of those.” She pointed at my cheek as she spoke.

For a fraction of a second I had no idea what she was on about, then I remembered I’d told her that Beesley had pulled me over when I’d been attacked on the golf course. “He won’t get me again, Lynda, you can be sure of that. Here, hang on to this for a minute while I get my keys.” I unwound myself and handed the lead back to her, then quickly got my keys and phone from my bag. Within minutes I was being dragged down the road, watching Beesley’s tail wag faster than I would have believed was possible.

We went to the field next to the playground as I didn’t fancy the golf course again. After a couple of circuits he was nowhere near worn out, but I was exhausted, so I sat on one of the benches and let him run around on a long lead. He kept dashing off, then reaching the end of the lead and pulling up short. He didn’t seem
to learn, but it clearly didn’t bother him either. He could just make it to the shallows of the little river, and after one quick paddle he returned with a soggy ball and dropped it at my feet. He looked up at me expectantly, his pink tongue flapping.

“OK, you daft dog,” I murmured, throwing the ball just far enough that he would be able to reach it, and he shot off. He was tireless, and as long as I kept throwing the ball carefully I could give him all the exercise he needed without leaving my seat. It was quite therapeutic, but it wasn’t enough to actually make me cheerful. I couldn’t help thinking about the last time I was in the meadow, with Callum and Olivia, and the tears were suddenly back. I wrapped my arms tight around my knees to make myself as small as possible and to stop from howling out loud, and found myself rocking as I wept. Beesley was oblivious to it all, running for his ball.

The tugging on his lead suddenly stopped, and I heard him bark excitedly. I ignored him for a moment, too wrapped up in my misery to care, but his eager barking was persistent. I peered over my knees to see what his problem was.

The little puppy was standing by the riverbank, and the sun was catching the swirling clouds of insects in the evening with a golden shimmer. He was jumping up and down, eyes fixed on something I couldn’t see from that distance.

“Beesley, leave the midges alone, you’ll never catch them,” I called, sniffing loudly. I reached in my pocket for a tissue, but could only find a very soggy one. I should have known better than to leave the house without at least a handful of new ones. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and tried to compose myself, watching the strange antics of the dog. Josh had been right; getting out with Beesley was a good idea.

The ball was now lying ignored at Beesley’s feet, and he was looking upwards, his tail wagging furiously. As I watched he walked towards me, looking up and to the side as he came. I found myself leaning forwards, curious to see what had caught his attention. Every so often he jumped up, always to the same side. He was about ten paces away when it struck me; he was walking with someone next to him, but it was someone that only he could see, someone he knew and liked.

I slowly got to my feet, hardly daring for it to be true. I couldn’t bear another disappointment today.

“Callum?” I whispered. “Is that you?”

The little dog stopped just in front of me, a soppy look on his face as he sat in response to a command I couldn’t see or hear. I reached out, feeling only empty air.

“Are you really there this time? I can’t feel you.” The feeling of loss and helplessness threatened to overwhelm me again, and I sank back down. “Please, please let me know you are there.”

Beesley suddenly started to bark enthusiastically. “Is that really you? Oh, Callum, I thought I’d lost you for ever.” Beesley’s gaze shifted slowly towards me, and he looked exactly as if he was staring at my ear. He then put his head on my knee next to the wrist that still showed the marks where the amulet had been wrenched off.

“I know that you’re there. I can almost feel you, almost believe that you are stroking my hair, kissing my neck…” I automatically lifted my hand to stroke his face, a gesture so familiar, so right, but nothing was there. No hint of resistance, no gossamer touch, nothing. “Callum…” I whispered, struggling to contain the tears. My excitement was quickly overtaken by a feeling of huge frustration. To think that he
could
be there, but
to have no sensible means of communicating was simply awful. Beesley continued to sit there, his eyes flicking between me and the shadow only he could see.

“Is … is there a way to fix this, do you think?” I asked eventually, hoping that Beesley might give me a clue. But he just sat there, apparently staring at me with the same soppy look on his face, his tail whisking up the dust. I watched him intently but nothing happened. “What can I do, Callum? Help me!”

Beesley got up and walked around in a small circle before sitting down again. “Was that some sort of sign?” I cried. “A clue? Does that mean we can fix things?”

Beesley suddenly put his head on one side and gave one of his ears a thorough scratching with his back paw. He shook his head a little, as if he were slightly surprised, yawned hugely and lay down with his head on his front paws. “No, Beesley, it’s not time to stop playing just yet.” I tried to cajole him into action, scratching his head and tickling him under his chin, but he was having none of it. He shut his eyes and within seconds he had started to snore.

“Crap!” I exclaimed, slapping my palm against the seat in frustration. But it was frustration edged with excitement. For the first time in days I knew,
really
knew, that Callum was by my side. There was something to fight for, some reason to keep going. I was not going to let Catherine win. “Callum, it’s brilliant to know that you are still there, even if we can’t yet talk. But I’m not going to give up. I’ll … I’ll, I don’t know, borrow him again tomorrow and work out a way to get him to help. I could maybe make that work, you never know. It’s just so good to know that you’re with me, that I haven’t lost you forever.” There was no responding twitch from the dog; he was sound asleep. I gathered him up in my arms and
walked home, feeling a small spark of hope grow as I went. He
had
been there, I was sure of it.

Lynda was rather surprised when I handed back a sleeping puppy. “Gosh, Alex, what have you done to him? I’ve not seen him this exhausted before.”

“I just took him for a walk down by the playground. We found a ball and I was throwing it for him. He seemed to enjoy it.”

“Ooh yes, he does like a bit of fetch. Daft dog!” She rubbed his ears and he grunted contentedly.

“So, term has ended, and I have plenty of free time,” I said as casually as possible. “Would you like me to walk him again for you tomorrow?”

“Thank you so much for the offer, but we’re both off to my parents’ place for a few days in the morning. I’m not sure how well he’s going to deal with the long car journey though.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” I smiled at her, fighting back the disappointment. “It’ll wait until you get back. We had a good time today, didn’t we, Beesley?” His tail twitched as I said his name but his eyes stayed shut. My canine Dirge detector had had enough for the day.

Back at home the house seemed less gloomy somehow, and I realised that I was actually hungry. I smiled to myself; Callum was still there for me. All I had to do was work out a way to communicate with him using the dog. Perhaps I could get Callum to make Beesley bark to command: one bark for yes, two for no, that sort of thing. What I had to do was to work out lots of Yes/No questions for him. I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen as I worked in the kitchen, throwing together a simple pasta dish. I tried to write down exactly what I could ask, to give me a bit of an
idea about where to start, but it was fiendishly difficult. I decided that the best thing I could do was revisit all the places I had been with Callum, to see if questions came to me. And while I was out and about he might be able to hijack a different dog of course. It didn’t have to be Beesley.