Fellside Page 11

  Why what? the other demanded.

  Why did you help me?

  There was a long silence. The unseen other was circling her: she knew that, because the pressure of its gaze upon her shifted as it moved. There didn’t seem to be any room on the ledge for anything to go around her, but maybe whatever she was talking to could walk on air, glide through rock. The rules were different here. Jess turned too, scared of being outflanked.

  You said hello to me.

  Jess’s mock mouth moved, her mock tongue stirred together soft-edged gobbets of sound. Nothing intelligible came out. I said what?

  When I saw you, in the white place. The hospital place. You said hello to me. Most people only see me when they’re asleep. You saw me when you were awake. It was nice. It was nice to be seen.

  It was nice. That was what a child would say. But what would a child be doing here, in this inexplicable abyss? What did it say about Jess’s mental state at this point that she had dreamed a child into her nightmare to share it with her?

  Show yourself, Jess thought. Let me see you.

  No. Quick. Categorical. The other was just as wary as she was, just as slow to trust, for all that it had saved her. What had it saved her for? Or from, for that matter?

  The hole goes on for ever. People who go in don’t come out again.

  “But I – then how can I—?” She was speaking with her mouth this time. The sounds hung in the air, rough-hewn and shapeless.

  You’ll have to climb.

  Jess had no idea how to do that. Her new-made body was a flimsy thing, unsuited to serious effort of any kind. Her real body was back in the real world, a great distance away in a direction she didn’t even have a name for. And climbing out of the pit would only be the start of a long and arduous journey. Surely it would be less effort just to wait here until she woke?

  And she wanted to know who her rescuer was. She wanted that very much. A strange presentiment had come to her, the outline of a thought that she was almost afraid to acknowledge.

  She tried to mount an ambush. She imagined a light, hanging in the abyss above her, pushing back the darkness. She strained her freshly minted heart with wishing for it. And the darkness slowly thinned from black to grey.

  The other was gone in an instant. She knew because she was no longer watched. The bubble of its attention had burst against her skin.

  The light blossomed too late, like a thin and faded sun in this fathomless night. The feeble glow lit Jess, though she cast no shadow (she was scarcely more than a shadow to start with). It lit the ledge she stood on, an arm’s length wide. It lit a rock face beside her, rusted brown like old blood.

  The other was gone. She was alone in her dream.

  24

  Jess waited a long time for something to happen. For the voice to return, or for morning to raise her up on its back and carry her home to reality. But at last, when it became clear that neither of those things would happen, she climbed.

  It was easy enough, at least at first. The rock face was rough and pitted and offered a million handholds. And before she started, she put some effort into refining and improving her imagined body. You couldn’t walk without muscles and sinews. You couldn’t cling on to outcrops without fingers and thumbs, or step up on to ledges and escarpments without toes and heels. She equipped herself with these things, pleased at the way her dream flesh responded to her thoughts.

  But the downside of having a more realistic body was that it experienced realistic wear and tear. Though the pain that had brought her here had faded now, Jess was soon tired and aching from the ascent itself.

  She climbed for hours. She climbed for ever. The rock wall didn’t change and neither did the abyss. Nothing stirred that infinite column of air. Nothing moved here apart from her.

  She knew she was dreaming, but she couldn’t make herself wake up. She thought about allowing herself to fall again – testing the limits of dream logic by letting the pit take her. She found she was afraid to do that. She was also afraid of losing her way at the top of the shaft and wandering for ever without finding her physical body again. That was ridiculous, of course. “For ever” could only mean until morning came and it was time to be given her next round of meds.

  But it didn’t feel like that. It felt as though waking up might turn out to be a challenge. Perhaps she wasn’t asleep at all but in a coma.

  Or insane.

  Or dead.

  With that thought she ran out of wall. Her spidering fingers touched nothing but empty air above her. She hauled herself out on to a plateau of black rock that was as smooth as glass. It was only a few steps wide. Beyond that there was nothing but chaos: clashing waves of colour and shape and formless light like a constant explosion. She felt a tidal pull dragging her into that sensory spew. She tried to look away from it, but it was everywhere.

  And he was waiting for her there. Although he’d fled when she tried to catch a glimpse of him, he’d paused here at the rim to see her emerge. All Jess could make out was a slight figure crouched on its haunches, a smear of shadow backlit by garish immensity.

  “Let me see you,” she whispered, but her gaze kept flinching downwards at the ground. She saw him in momentary glimpses, smeared by the movement of her own eyes.

  He didn’t answer or move. She took a step towards him, and then another. Focusing on him alone, ignoring the monstrous storm of images.

  He got to his feet and for a moment she thought he might run. But he didn’t. He stood quite still as she walked towards him. His hands were at his sides and his head was bowed, looking at the ground.

  She drew near to him. So slowly! She wanted to put off as long as she could the moment when that face looked up and saw her. But there was no choice and nowhere else to go.

  He didn’t wait for her to reach him. While she was still about ten paces away, he raised his head to look at her, but his face was mostly lost in moving shadow. His features wavered like pondweed in a sluggish current.

  It made no difference. She knew, had known all along, whose face she was going to see. She steeled herself in advance for the shock, but it was wasted effort.

  She sank to her knees. Dream or death or delirium, she couldn’t face this. She waited for him to speak, to accuse her or perhaps to sentence her. He still said nothing. He was wearing the same vest and shorts he’d had on the first time she saw him on the stairs outside her flat. His face wore a serious frown that made him look, for a moment, a lot older than he was.

  Something heaved inside Jess like a sob, but it found no exit. “I’m sorry,” she said, just as she had in that earlier dream. “I’m so sorry, Alex.” Her voice sounded hollow and dead in her own ears.

  What for? the boy asked.

  “For… hurting you.” Killing, she meant. For killing you. But the word wouldn’t come.

  I don’t remember that. Was it a long time ago?

  She had been in hospital for eight months. The trial had taken three weeks, and then she’d waited in the remand wing at Winstanley for another seven. Almost a year. For a ten-year-old, almost for ever.

  “A very long time.”

  I don’t think I know you. But you don’t have to feel bad about it, as long as you’re sorry.

  She knew that she knelt within a dream, was talking to a dream, but the words still overwhelmed her. She couldn’t find any answer.

  She risked another glance. Alex was looking at her with eager interest. He even flashed her a momentary smile. He seemed pleased that they’d got through the awkwardness, as though his agony and his death were things that could be set aside as long as the proper social rituals were observed.

  This is where I live, he told her. Where do you live? You should probably go back there now. The big hole isn’t safe and I mostly don’t come here.

  “I live…” Jess gestured vaguely to one part of the horizon and then another. “I’m in prison because of… what happened. I don’t really have a home any more.”

  But you should go back to
where you were before.

  “I don’t know the way.”

  I can take you back to where I first saw you. It’s easy to get lost until you’re used to it.

  He held out his hand for her to take. Jess raised her own arm, a mere slab of substance, graceless and thrown together. They touched. His fingers closed around hers.

  Grief and shame filled her and poured from her. She sobbed out her heart on the black obsidian. Alex watched her sadly, in silence, as though he’d seen a world of suffering and had run out of words to answer it.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again.

  You told me. Come on. We have to go now.

  She climbed to her feet. He was tugging at her hand, pulling her towards the exploding world which surrounded the pit on all sides. For some reason, the thought of going there filled her with dread – as though there might be something waiting for her that was worse than what she’d already endured. Something that would break her down in pieces if she even saw it.

  You can close your eyes, Alex said. I know the way.

  She did as he said. She let him lead her, eyes screwed shut, away from the pit into the dazzling lightnings of his world. Sometimes his other hand touched her elbow to turn or steady her. When she hesitated, he whispered reassurance.

  They might have walked ten miles or a thousand. Time and space meant nothing here. There was nothing but the textureless ground under her feet and the soft touch of Alex’s hands. If she walked through any medium at all, it was through his gentleness.

  Almost there. Just another step.

  But she didn’t want to take it now. Though this dream had started off in agony, the thought of waking from it back into Fellside prison, into what her life had become, seemed like a terrible prospect. Most of all, she didn’t want to leave Alex.

  It was nice to meet you too, he said with guarded politeness.

  “Perhaps you could come back,” she hazarded, her homemade heart beating like a hammer. “I’d like… I’d love to see you again, Alex.”

  I don’t think so. It’s noisy here. And too bright. I mostly stay where it’s dark and quiet.

  When she didn’t answer, he prompted her again. You have to go that way. It’s not far. Try it.

  Jess turned from him and stepped forward, still with her eyes closed against the glare and the sickening motion. One more step, he’d said. And that was all it took. She went back into her body, which lay open and ready to receive her.

  She woke herself with weeping that tore the shrivelled membranes of her throat. When she remembered that night afterwards, that was always what came back to her first. The taste of her own blood, welling up in her mouth and spilling down her chin.

  It was just a dream, but it had felt more real and more solid than anything since the trial. The blood made sense. It was as though she’d broken her fast on razor blades.

  25

  Jess’s loud, half-strangled sobbing brought Nurse Stock running, in something of a panic. She slammed the room lights on with the heel of her hand, the sudden glare pinning Jess to her pillow like a beetle to a board.

  Stock was unusually solicitous. She brought a beaker of water for Jess to drink, examined her throat with a speculum and mixed up a weak antiseptic paste for her to swallow, washed down with more water.

  “Those lacerations will probably heal by themselves,” she said. “I think. I’m sure they will. But I’ll leave a note for the day team to check them. Dr Salazar will know what to do. And there’s always more systemic pain relief if you need it.”

  Jess read the time from Stock’s watch as the nurse fussed around her. It was two o’clock, presumably in the morning. It felt as though whole days must have passed, but Nurse Stock had been on duty when she fell asleep and it seemed that this was the same night. She settled her head back on the pillow, drained and almost numb. The light was still hurting her, but sheer exhaustion made the pain bearable. “I’m going to change this pillowcase,” Stock was saying, almost babbling. “It’s soaked from your sweat. I think you must have had a… a fever that broke in the night, or…”

  The next time Jess woke, she was alone in the room.

  She dozed again. Nurse Stock was back, pulling the covers down to examine her.

  Alone.

  Stock taking her temperature, pushing the cold tip of the digital thermometer into her ear.

  Alone.

  Alone.

  Alone.

  Some time passed. Maybe it was a day. And another night. It could have been anything.

  It was dark again, apart from a band of sunlight spilling in at the half-open door. Patience DiMarta walked across Jess’s line of sight, left the room and closed the door behind her.

  Alex coalesced out of the sudden dark, like stirred milk coming to the surface of a mug of coffee.

  For a second or two, Jess could only croak. Her mouth gaped open but her injured throat wouldn’t make any other sounds. Her feet kicked spastically, out of rhythm, pushing her backwards up the bed. Her heart beat at her ribs just once, with the force of a hammer blow. Then it seemed to stop, as though it had wedged itself tight in there and couldn’t get free again.

  She threw up her hands to hide him from her sight, but she was too weak to hold them there. Gravity dragged them down and the boy was still standing at the foot of the bed, solemn, staring, only mildly interested in her terror.

  I need to talk to you, he said.

  26

  He came back every night, and every day.

  He wore her down by infinitesimal degrees.

  Jess knew he wasn’t real, couldn’t be real, but Alex refused to let that matter. He was with her every minute. Pale in the daylight. Bright against darkness, like a fresh tattoo.

  And every time she surrendered to the weakness of her body, the failing of her organs, he dragged her back. To wakefulness. To life.

  There was no refuge.

  “You’re not here,” Jess croaked at him. Jagged, incomplete sounds. Sounds made of broken breath. But he understood her.

  Where am I, then?

  “In my mind. In my memory.”

  “Did you hear that?” Nurse DiMarta asked Dr Salazar. “She’s wandering in her wits. She just said so.” Jess had forgotten they were even there. They came and went like shadows now. Only the other shadow was real. Only Alex. “Probably a mercy. I don’t think it will be much longer.”

  “Then why is her heart rate so steady?” Salazar murmured.

  They moved back and forth around her, taking measurements, exclaiming, occluding Alex and then revealing him again and again. He didn’t move. He stood in the shadows at the far end of the room but he was as clearly visible as though he was in bright sunlight. Or perhaps it was the light of a fire she couldn’t see. In his bowed head and pursed lips there was a boundless patience.

  She slept and woke. Alex still waited.

  “All right,” Jess whispered, giving in at last. “What?”

  I changed my mind.

  “About…?”

  You said you hurt me, and I told you I didn’t care.

  He leaned over her. Jess flinched back, her upper body sliding further up the headboard, but there was nowhere to go. You couldn’t escape from madness, and clearly she was mad.

  Oh God, she was mad. And talking to the ghost of the boy she’d killed.

  I don’t think you did kill me. That’s what I wanted to tell you. That’s why I came back.

  He was right beside her, his face leaning down to look into hers. She turned her head away. “Burned…” she tried to say, although what came out wasn’t words. “In a… fire…” In her dream or hallucination, or whatever it was, he’d been able to read what was in her mind. She let the images form there. The wastepaper basket. The bedroom. The smoke. The horror.

  I didn’t die in a fire!

  “But…”

  I didn’t. Listen to me. There might have been a fire. I suppose there was if you remember it. But I must have been dead before I burned.

&
nbsp; Alex held up his left hand, fingers spread, then pointed to his right eye and cheek. There was a woman. She hurt me, here and here. Hurt me with sharp things. And then she killed me.

  The dead boy frowned – the same solemn expression he’d worn in her dream. I was wrong, he told her. It does matter. I was alone for a long time and I forgot. There was nobody to talk to, so I forgot. I didn’t know who I was or what had happened to me. But then you talked to me and it made me start to remember. Now I want to know the rest. There was a woman who hurt me. Not you. I’d know if it was you. And there were other things before that. I want to know. It’s horrible not knowing. It’s almost like not being here at all. If you feel sorry for what you did, you’ve got to help me.

  But you’re not real, Jess thought. You can’t be real.

  I’m as real as you are! And I brought you back. I was kind to you.

  He stepped away from the bed, glowering at her now with something like indignation. There’s nobody else I can ask. Nobody else sees me when they’re awake. So if you don’t help me, I’ll never know. I’ll be stuck not knowing for ever.

  I can’t, Jess protested. There was no point in telling him again that he was a hallucination, a fitfully firing neuron. He wouldn’t believe her. Alex, she said instead, if there was some way to help you, I’d do it. But you’re dead, and I’m dead too. I can’t do anything.

  Yes you can! The boy’s fists were clenched, his face twisted with anger and frustration. You can see me and you can talk to me. And you can talk to other people. Somebody must know!

  His expression changed – becoming calmer, but also filling with a frightening resolution. I know about you wanting to die, Jess. I saw you thinking about it a lot of times. But I’m not going to let you die until you’ve done this first.

  He turned his back on her and walked away. She could see him for a long time getting smaller and smaller, as though the cramped room was a corridor that stretched halfway to the end of the world.

  Jess. It was the first time, alive or dead, that he’d ever called her by her name. It burned behind her red, itching eyes the way a brand might burn on her skin.