Another Me (10 page)

I still stared at him blankly. ‘What are you on about?'

His face was going pale. He swallowed. ‘Oh, blinkin' hell!'

I could see little beads of sweat forming on his upper lip.

I laughed. ‘Oh, I see. That's from the play, isn't it?' I paused, pretended I was thinking hard, patting my lips with my fingers. ‘Am I supposed to remember the next line?'

Drew looked at me as if he were seeing a ghost. He took a step back from me.

I moved towards him. I smiled. Glancing at my reflection even I could see the smile made my face look weird. It almost scared me. ‘What's the matter, Drew?' I said in my most wicked voice.

Drew looked up at the numbers above the door. I
followed his gaze. 5-3-. It wasn't moving fast enough for him. ‘Let me out of here,' he said.

It would have been too cruel to keep it up. I began to laugh, I couldn't stop laughing.

He looked puzzled. Afraid almost. Was this a madwoman? Crazy, like Lady Macbeth?

I couldn't do it to him any longer. The lift reached the ground and I held out my hand to him. ‘“Here's the smell of blood still. All the perfumes of Arabia shall not sweeten this little hand.”'

I have never seen anyone look so relieved in all my life. The colour flooded back into his cheeks. He fell back against the wall of the lift. ‘You are horrible, Fay Delussey.' He was breathing hard. ‘I was dead scared there. I cannot believe you did that to me.'

I was giggling now. ‘I know, but I just couldn't resist it.'

By the time the doors opened we fell out of the lift still laughing.

And that morning Drew walked with me the whole length of the stairs, and didn't run on until we reached Dawn and Kaylie, waiting for me with big grins on their faces.

Drew and I spent almost every lunchtime in the school library now, at the computer, finding out as much as we could about fetches and doppelgangers.

Everything we discovered only made me more afraid.

Stories and legends of strange meetings. Dead soldiers coming back from the war for one last moment with a loved one. Sitting, solid and real, in a fireside chair. The living, breathing image of the soldier who, at that same instant, was dying on a faraway battleground.

The strange story of a woman, lying in bed and opening her eyes to see her husband standing by the window looking out across the fields. Half asleep, she turned and there he was, that same husband, flesh and blood and bone, lying in the bed beside her. Which was the real one? She couldn't tell. All she knew was that within a month, her husband was dead and buried.

The chilling tale of the villagers who stoned a woman to death, convinced she was the fetch and not the real person, and that what they had done was no sin, no crime, because a fetch had no soul.

Yet, however much we read, or what we found out, it always came back to the same thing. No matter what culture the legend came from, no matter in what time the myth emerged, to see your own image was a portent of your own death.

A portent.

The word haunted me.

‘I don't want to die, Drew,' I would say. ‘I'd much rather find out that it was Monica pretending to be me.'

‘You're not going to die, Fay,' he would always insist. ‘I told you, we're going to change the rules.'

But how were we going to change the rules, I wanted to ask him. How could I, when he didn't know the answer to that either. However, just knowing he was there, that he understood, always made me feel better.

‘Anyway, maybe I don't have to worry about it anymore. It's been over two weeks now, and nothing's happened.'

He grinned. ‘Maybe it's finished,' he said.

That thought cheered me. Finished. I so wanted it to
be. But somewhere deep inside the thought remained: why had it started in the first place? Why me?

Of course, I might have suspected, Mrs Williams had the answer.

‘Everything fine now, dear?' She stepped out of her office one day as I was passing. The way a spider leaps at a fly.

‘Everything's fine.' I knew Mum phoned her – kept her informed about how I was doing at home. I'd been annoyed about that. Didn't like teachers knowing our business, especially an amateur psychiatrist like Mrs Williams.

She touched my arm reassuringly. As if I needed reassurance from her. ‘Yes, dear. I knew it would all sort itself out when things at home were more settled.'

I wanted to yell at her. I hadn't imagined anything, or made anything up. There really had been another one of me. But I knew she would never listen. In her mind, her solution had worked.

And maybe it had. Things were getting better all round for me. And that other, my fetch, my doppelganger, it seemed, had disappeared.

Then, it happened.

One day after school I walked straight into town by myself. I was looking for Christmas presents for Kaylie and Dawn. Dreaming of maybe getting one from Drew Fraser.

It was as I was coming out of the Forum where the small market stalls were that I saw them.

Mum, and him.

The man she'd been seeing before. I'd only ever caught a glimpse of him once, in a car with her, but I'd never forget his face. How could she prefer him to Dad? He wasn't half as good looking. I stepped into a doorway to watch them. They were standing on the pavement as if they'd just met accidentally. Old friends sharing a moment together. They looked innocent. No one watching them would imagine there was anything guilty about that meeting. Except me.

To me, they looked uncomfortable, as if they didn't know what to say to each other. As if they didn't know how to make small talk.

They were smiling at each other, but neither of them looked happy. As I watched, I felt as if my heart had stopped beating. As if I was caught in time.

Then, they said goodbye. Mum turned away, and I saw her face. The smile disappeared. She blinked, bit
her lip, trying hard not to cry. Even I could see that. I watched her as she ran towards the taxi rank, wanting to be away from him quickly so he wouldn't witness her tears.

I watched him too. He ran on across the street. Then he turned and his eyes searched her out, found her and never left her till the taxi she was in moved out of sight. There was pain in his face. And love.

He loved her.

He loved my mum.

And she still loved him. I was sure of it. She still loved him. Though she'd given him up and stayed with me and Dad, and promised never to leave. She still loved
him.

She'd given him up for me. Forever. Because some daft teacher had made her believe that I was having delusions because of her affair, because I couldn't face her leaving.

That was rubbish.

I forgot the presents. I slowly walked the long road home, as the darkness closed around me, and the icy mist descended on the town. I couldn't bear the thought of my mum being unhappy. Yet I couldn't bear the thought of losing her.

Christmas presents were forgotten. Everything else was forgotten.

What was going to happen now?

She was home by the time I got back. Standing in the kitchen, preparing chicken for tea. She turned to face me as I walked in, and smiled. ‘Good day at school?'

I searched her face for any signs of guilt, or sadness. But there was nothing. She chatted away while she made the tea, and when Dad came in with the holiday brochures they both pored over them.

Had I been mistaken? Maybe she didn't care about him at all. Or was she just putting on a brave face?

‘I'd rather you didn't use that odd lift, Fay,' Dad said as we sat at the table. ‘There was somebody else stuck in it today. For two hours.' He looked at Mum. ‘What's been happening with that petition you got up?'

‘If we don't hear anything by next week,' Mum said, ‘we're sending a committee to the Council offices. We have to do something. It's a death trap that thing.'

And so, they chatted on, about the holiday, and Christmas and the odd lift. And not a sign of the pain I had seen earlier that day on my mum's face.

I wished I could understand. Maybe when you were older things fell into place. But for now, I was just confused.

It was all I could think about all night, and in my dreams Mum and Dad and this other man were all stuck in the lift, not talking to each other. I was there, too, but they couldn't see me. I was trapped behind the mirrored steel. And that was the most frightening thing of all.

Mum and Dad had both left for work by the time I was ready for school. Mrs Brennan was already waiting at the lift. Pension day.

‘Hello, darlin',' she said, beaming at me. ‘You look that bonny with your hair like that, do you know?'

I hardly listened, my mind was still a jumble of confused thoughts. The lift came and the doors slid open. ‘It's actually working today,' Mrs Brennan said. ‘It's a miracle.'

I took one step into the lift and drew back. ‘Could you send it back up for me, please, Mrs Brennan? I've forgotten something.'

‘I'll hold it for you if you like. I'm not in a hurry. That wee Gupta's always sleeping in. The post office won't be opened yet.'

I shook my head. ‘No, Mrs Brennan. Thanks all the same.'

I didn't want her to wait for me, because I had come to a decision. I wasn't going to school today. I couldn't face talking to people, and listening and trying to learn. When all I wanted to do was to be alone, and think.

All I needed, I thought, was one day completely to myself to think things through.

There was a thrill in being in the flat by myself. Being able to watch television if I wanted, to have the place filled with noise, or silence. My choice.

I made some coffee and settled myself in the chair by the window. The mist hung low over the hills and seeped through around the town. Would Drew miss me, I wondered? Then I remembered that Drew wasn't going to school today either. He had a five-a-side tournament to attend.

Would Kaylie and Dawn think I'd gone with him? That we'd stayed off school together? How cool would that be?

I had caused Mum and Dad so much worry over the past few weeks. I didn't want them to worry about me again. I loved them both so much.

But, if they ever split up, I'd love them both the same. I'd handle it. Other people did.

The phone rang, but I ignored it. Kaylie or Dawn probably wanting to know where I was. Let them wonder. I'd tell them tomorrow.

It was a good decision staying off school that day. It was exactly what I needed to prepare myself for whatever might happen in the future. I felt happy that day. Together or separate, I wanted Mum and Dad both to be happy too.

By the time they came in from work, I was poring over homework. ‘Good day?' Mum asked, hanging her coat in the hall cupboard.

‘Brilliant!' I answered. And I hadn't lied. It had been a good day. Lots of decisions reached and a whole new future ahead.

Next morning, Mum and I met Mrs Brennan at the lift. ‘Did you get it OK yesterday, dear? I sent it back up for you.'

Was I glad I'd seen Mrs Brennan yesterday? Proof to Mum if she'd been suspicious that I had gone to school like a good little girl.

‘Yes, Mrs Brennan. Got it fine.'

‘We're taking our lives in our hands using it,' Mrs Brennan said cheerily. As if plunging to our deaths down the lift shaft had a funny side.

Mum laughed too. ‘Yes, don't tell your dad. He's warned us to use the stairs, at least to the next floor so we can catch the even lift.'

When Mum kissed me goodbye she looked at me thoughtfully. ‘There's something different about you today. What is it?'

I knew exactly what it was. I felt different. But I only smiled at her and began to hurry towards the steps. ‘It's Christmas!' I shouted excitedly, throwing my bag in the air.

Drew Fraser was dawdling ahead of me. I was so full of confidence I called out to him to wait. We quickly checked our code lines, then I asked, ‘How did your five-a-sides go?'

He grinned. ‘Foregone conclusion.' He poked at his chest. ‘This boy's brilliant.'

‘And so modest.' I laughed.

‘We've got the final rehearsal for
Macbeth
tomorrow,' he said.

I groaned. ‘Don't remind me. I'm going to be rubbish.'

He only shrugged. ‘Who cares? It'll be a laugh.'

He began picking the weeds off the wall and he muttered something.

‘Sorry?' I asked. ‘I didn't hear that.'

He glanced at me shyly. His ears went red and he licked his lips. ‘I said . . . want to go with me to the Christmas disco at school?'

If I'd been happy before I was ecstatic now. Drew Fraser, asking
me
to go with him to the Christmas disco!

I held out my hand to him, grinning. ‘All the perfumes of Arabia . . .' I began, ‘wouldn't stop me.'

He looked as pleased as I felt. ‘Brilliant.'

His friends called to him from the top of the stairs but I couldn't make them out in the mist. ‘Better go,' he said. ‘Don't want to bump into your giggling pals.'

But Kaylie and Dawn weren't waiting for me at the top of the stairs this morning. I didn't see them till I hurried into the playground just as the bell was ringing. We filed into the class together. I was dying to tell them about Drew, but I wanted to pick exactly the right moment. Preferably when Monica was within earshot.

It was Mr Hardie's class first and as we took our seats I remembered with dismay that he had timetabled a test for us yesterday. And I had missed it. I prayed he wouldn't ask me to stay behind today to do it.

I leaned across to ask Kaylie how hard it had been but I didn't get the chance. Mr Hardie slammed a jotter down on his desk to shut us all up.

‘Well,' he began. ‘I have to say you all surprised me yesterday.'