Authors: K.C. Finn
Tags: #young adult, #historical, #wwii, #historical romance, #ww2, #ya, #europe, #telepathic, #clean teen publishing, #kc finn
The Mind's Eye (6 page)
started school again in the village the week after our arrival, so
I was left in peace in the sitting room most mornings in order to
practice propelling myself in the chair as the rotten Doctor
Bickerstaff had ordered. But with the luxury of time without
supervision all I could think of was Idrys’s tale of the psychic
spy and the soldiers I had seen in my dream. If I was going to get
back into the head of the German man talking about Oslo, I would
have to stretch my mind a lot farther than it had ever deliberately
travelled.
The first
thing to practice was finding Mum. I had been able to do it with
ease when we were at home, when she was in another room or even
down the end of the street chin-wagging with the local gossip, but
I had never attempted to reach her any farther afield than that.
Now was the time to try. I raised my hands up for the heel of each
palm to touch my forehead, my eyes slipping shut. Two big breaths.
In and out and in and out. And I thought hard, thought of Mum and
her short, curly hair the colour of autumn leaves, her eyes the
same navy blue shade as mine, her smart brown hat with the pretty
white bow that she wore to go out and about.
I opened my
eyes to a familiar scene: Blackwell’s Post Office in East London. I
could see my mother’s slim white hands holding a small stack of
letters. She was waiting in a noisy little queue. I congratulated
myself very quietly on a job well done. My gift had taken me all
the way back to London, though it was still into a head that I
already knew I could reach, it was something. Distance was
possible.
“
Hello Gail,” said a woman behind my mother in the bustling
queue. She turned and through her eyes I was overjoyed to see the
familiar sight of Anne, my mother’s childhood friend who lived not
far from us.
“
Oh Anne,” Mum said, giving the woman a hug with one hand
whilst she clasped her letters in the other, “How are you dear? Did
Bobby and John get off okay?”
“
Yes everything was smooth as you like,” Anne replied with a
smile, “They sent me a letter from Merthyr.”
“
I thought they were going to the Rhondda something-or-other?”
my mother pressed.
casual hand. “Oh there was a terrible mix up, too many kids in one
place and not enough homes to put them in!”
“
How awful,” Mum said. I thought the same thing.
“
No harm done, the boys are all right with the new family.
Have you heard from your two?”
wave of disappointment wash over Mum, the crushing guilt grabbed me
like those awful splints Bickerstaff had given me, except this time
the hard boards were cramping around my heart. I hadn’t even
thought to write to Mum yet, everything had been so busy here and I
had set off on this new psychic mission without even thinking about
her as more than a practice target. It made me feel a little
sick.
Mum was
trying to smile; I could feel the movement in her face. “I’m just
sending them a letter now,” she said, indicting her pile of mail as
the queue shifted forwards, “So I’m sure they’ll send me all their
news then.”
Too right we
would. I would make a point of sending pageloads to tell her how
much we missed her and make sure Leighton did the same.
“
I have heard from her doctor though,” Mum added, “He wrote as
soon as he’d seen her the other day.”
hating Doctor Bickerstaff all the more for pipping me to the post
with my own mother, especially before I could give her my own
impression of him.
Anne asked
the question that was on my mind. “And what did he say?”
Mum had
reached the front of the postal queue. I waited in anguish for her
to pay for her letters and get her change. She took Anne by the arm
and guided her out of the post office before she spoke, so I spent
every moment trying not to project any of my worries too close to
her thoughts. The last thing I wanted her to do was catch my voice
in her head. It was all right with Leighton, he had no clue what
was going on when I injected a thought here and there, but Mum, I
felt, would not handle my voice in her mind in quite the same way.
When they were out on the street Mum and Anne stood browsing the
postcard stand away from everyone else, where finally my mother was
willing to let slip the doctor’s verdict on me.
“
Well, you know he’s a specialist don’t you?” Mum
began.
“That was the point of sending her to middle of nowhere, wasn’t
it?”
Mum nodded
too. “He’s a forward thinker, this Steven Bickerstaff, very brisk
and proper on the phone, you know?” I could already imagine his
emotionless tone talking to Mum. She would no doubt be impressed by
it, thinking it ever so professional. “And he said…”
I could feel
a strange warmth rising in her chest. Her heart was quivering just
a little when she spoke, and I recognised the hotness building
under her eyes. Anne looked quite concerned and took my mother’s
arm.
“
He said it might not be too late.”
Now I was concerned. Had it been too late for me already at
some point that I wasn’t aware of? And too late
how
exactly? Too late for what? Was
my nice old Doctor Baxendale really the idiot Bickerstaff claimed
he was? Had he handed me a sentence that I didn’t have to
serve?
“
Well that’s wonderful!” Anne said, rubbing Mum’s arm. “Gail,
why are you so upset? Isn’t this good news?”
“
Of course it is,” Mum answered, fishing a tissue from her bag
to dab her eyes, “He said he’s started her on a new treatment and
this Mrs Price that’s got her is going to make her to stick to it,
but-” Her voice collapsed there and her sadness overwhelmed me. It
was a heavy kind of sorrow, like her heart was tied to a brick.
“But it should be me there helping her,” she whispered, “I feel so
helpless now I’m so far away.”
turn to feel sad again, because I couldn’t tell her how close I
really was. I contented myself that a speedy reply to her letter
would have to suffice.
“
But think of it this way,” Anne soothed, her kind face framed
with blonde strands, “The next time you see her, she could be…
well, she could be a lot fitter.”
“
She could also be thirty the rate this war’s going,” Mum
sobbed bitterly, “I wish they’d get on and clobber the Krauts so we
can get back to normal.”
“
But the longer she’s with that doctor, the better a chance
she’s got,” Anne reminded her.
agree. So far all Bickerstaff’s night splints had done were give me
bruises behind the knees and inside the elbows that Mam had to
cover up with make-up. If anything I was moving my joints even less
than before. But my mother’s high hopes for me were not unfounded,
especially if there was a way to put my real talents to good
use.
Anne soon
changed the subject of conversation to shake my mother from her
guilt, and though it pained me to have to leave her I let my mind
slip back towards Ty Gwyn until the connection was broken. When my
eyes flickered open I found I was crying. As I rifled in my pockets
to fetch a tissue my head ached terribly as it often did when I’d
been visiting Mum. Even though the little brown sitting room was
much darker than the other rooms of the house, the light streaming
in through the small windows was far too bright. I closed my eyes,
hearing my pulse in my head as the door opened gently.
“
Oh dear,” Mam said as she rushed in from the door. She
crouched in front of my chair and helped me dry my tears, rubbing
my arms. She clearly thought I had been trying to propel myself in
the chair. “Oh Kit, love, you mustn’t strain yourself. Only do what
you can manage, eh?”
nodded, feeling as though my head was about to explode. What I
could manage just wasn’t enough.
***
The whole
Price family went to chapel in the village every Sunday, which was
a strange experience for Leighton and me. We had both been
christened Church of England, but Mum and Dad were never big
chapelgoers except at Christmas and Easter. Mum always made us sit
in front of the wireless and listen to something religious on a
Sunday after breakfast, but that was a nice, peaceful affair.
Sunday after breakfast at Ty Gwyn was something else entirely.
The routine
started with Idrys arriving at eight o’clock in his best chapel
attire and complaining that Mam was never ready when she said she
would be. Mam was in her smart white chapel dress but she still had
her apron on and half a dozen rollers curled into the back of her
head. Every time she tried to go up to her room to finish getting
ready, something would interrupt her, like Ness appearing with her
socks on her hands instead of her feet, or Blodwyn storming through
the house complaining that all of her stockings were laddered.
Idrys watched the whole fiasco with amusement for about the first
twenty minutes, until he realised that the family would actually be
late for chapel if he didn’t do something soon.
At that point
he disappeared with Ness and reappeared about five minutes later
with her properly dressed, then wheeled me out in front of the door
and set the little girl on my knee where she was quite happy to sit
and discuss dolls. He then marched back into the house and let his
booming voice loose on the remaining populous; promising them that
if they didn’t assemble outside in five minutes flat, the preacher
would condemn them all to Hell. The first time Idrys said it
Leighton came running out of the huge door like a greyhound,
standing next to me in his little powder blue waistcoat.
“
I bet you don’t remember what church is like, do you?” I
asked, “You didn’t even come with us last Easter.”
“
Of course I do,” Leigh answered with a look of protest, “It’s
a bunch of old people and boring stories and all the singing’s out
of tune.”
on two counts out of the three, but I did rather enjoy the hymns
for a change. Most of them were in Welsh, which I think made God
and faith sound a little more uplifting, but that might have been
because I didn’t understand the words. The actual service itself
was a dull one, but being in the little chapel did give me a chance
to see the collected mass that was the rest of the village. Judging
by the sizeable crowd, it seemed that Bryn Eira Bach was the kind
of place where absolutely everybody went to chapel, so I was glad
to be part of the experience.
That was
until we were outside the chapel gate afterwards, when the familiar
frame of Doctor Bickerstaff started approaching us. I was stood
with Mam as she adjusted her hat against the bright autumn sun, so
I saw him coming first. He caught my eye with a familiar look of
disdain, his gaze extending to my elbows, at which I immediately
crossed my arms. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing the
badly-disguised bruises his contraptions had caused.
“
Good morning Mrs Price,” he said as he stopped before
her.
“
Bore da, Doctor,” Mam replied happily, “Lovely service today
wasn’t it?”
“
Hmm,” Bickerstaff answered thoughtfully, “the preacher speaks
well on the progress of man indeed. I actually came to check on
some progress of my own.” His round blue eyes settled on me. “How
are you doing with the new treatment, Catherine?”
Mam’s exuberance spared me from having to answer him.
“
Well we’ve had the splints on every night and not a word of
complaint,” Mam began, “and she’s had time every day to practice
moving herself around.”
didn’t look impressed in the least. “In that case I look forward to
seeing your progress on Friday,” he said.
“
Friday?” I repeated.
“
Your next appointment,” the doctor replied.
attempts to make me sound good to the doctor, Mam had dropped me
smack bang in the centre of an awkward situation. The mornings I
should have spent trying to strengthen my arms to move the chair
had been reserved for stepping in and out of Mum’s head in London
and Leighton’s at the village schoolhouse. I was surprised that Mam
hadn’t noticed I was in exactly the same place where she’d put me
every time she came back to the room. Or perhaps she had and she
was just more sympathetic than the suited cretin now judging me at
the chapel gate.
“
Same time as before, isit?” Mam asked.
nodded, which meant I had exactly 120 hours to learn how to move
more than half an inch across the floor without having a heart
attack. It was a much more daunting feat than learning to
infiltrate war-torn Europe with my mind, that was for sure, but I
would have to make a serious go of it now before the doctor caught
me out.
“
Are we going then or what?” said a balshy voice approaching
us. I twisted my neck to see Blod ambling down the cobbled path in
her heels.
“
Don’t be so rude in front of the doctor, Blodwyn,” Mam
chided, and this time it was a proper chide, one with no amusement
in her tone.
“
It’s quite all right, I was just leaving.” The words came
rushing out of Bickerstaff’s mouth faster than Leighton had moved
when he thought he might be sent to Hell. He said good day to us
all, put his head down and moved off at his usual brisk pace back
towards his shiny white hospital car. I watched him go; already
regretting that the next time I would see him was so close at
hand.
“
Honestly I can’t take you anywhere,” Mam grumbled at Blod,
“Make yourself useful and push Kit back up to the house. It’s not
fair us letting your Bampi do it both ways.”