Dreams of Origami (29 page)

‘This is her first visit to Cambridge, isn’t it?’ Lacey turns to Gideon. ‘Must be quite a coup for Whitely, judging by what this evening’s bash must have cost him.’

‘I guess so.’

‘I thought Whitely was into economics?’ says Drew. ‘Why’s he got his knickers in such a twist over this historian?’

‘She’s also a world-famous expert in transpersonal psychology.’

‘Trans what?’

‘The sort of stuff Gideon’s into.’

‘Oh, I might’ve known it would be something like that.’ Drew’s eyes start to glaze over. ‘And I suppose that’s why you wangled us this invitation, Gideon.’

‘Er, well, I don’t—’

‘Of course,’ Lacey continues, ‘with us working together now…Though you haven’t actually met her yourself, have you?’ Lacey takes a sip of her wine while Gideon offers up a silent prayer of thanks. ‘Didn’t you say you’ve been corresponding over the internet?’

Lacey and Drew involve themselves in a conversation about the difficulties of conducting an online relationship. Gideon is only half-listening. He’s desperately trying to get his head around what’s going on here. It seems that he and Lacey have known each other for some time. They are actually working together. Some elements from the other time stream, the one he remembers, seem to be mixed up with parts of this new past. Cassandra had tried to explain. ‘It may be that, somehow, the two will be mixed together,’ she’d said. ‘When you mend a cloth, not all the fibres match up perfectly. The same threads are still there, but patched together they may form a different pattern.’ Is this what she’d meant?

‘Is anything wrong, Gideon?’ asks Lacey.

‘No, why?’

‘You seem to be in a very strange mood this evening. Not quite with it somehow.’ She twirls a strand of hair around her fingers. ‘You sure there’s nothing—’

He’s saved by Whitely, who comes hurrying up to them. ‘Wakefield, I’m afraid I’m going to have to deprive your friends of your company. The professor is most anxious to meet you.’

Oh, for God’s sake, now what am I getting into?
he thinks. However, there’d probably be nothing to gain by delaying this encounter any longer. He turns to Lacey and Drew. ‘You will excuse me, won’t you? I’ll catch up with you later.’ He obediently follows Whitely towards the large, noisy group in the opposite corner. At least, thanks to Drew, he’s managed to glean some information about this Lebowski.

He’s halfway across the room when he discerns a subtle change in the atmosphere, as if the flow of time itself is expanding and all his senses are being gently stretched beyond his physical being. At first he is aware only of her voice. Although soft, it reaches him, its clarity lifting it above all the others, as if, in a dense forest, he can hear the distant sound of spring water dancing over bright pebbles. He knows her laughter will follow, even before he hears it. And then, through the crowd, his eyes focus on a sheath of hair, dark as ebony as it shimmers against her pale shoulders.

‘Cassandra?’

She begins to turn, even as he utters her name. Her hair swirls and settles around her. And then he is standing beside her and knows the deep violet of her eyes before she looks up at him. ‘It’s Gideon, isn’t it? Gideon Wakefield?’

She smiles and the world around him turns more slowly.

‘Please, do call me Cassie.’

He feels the energy flow from her as their fingers touch. Her hand is as he remembers—so small, the wrist so slender and fragile.

‘Forgive me for taking you away from your friends, but I’ve wanted so much to talk to you, I just couldn’t wait any longer.’

Her skin is pale under the harsh lights, but he has seen the way sunlight dusts her face with gold.

‘I’ve been reading some of your work.’ She is breathless, excited. ‘And the notes you sent me—you know, your theory about centres of cosmic energy and their connection with fault lines in the aether.’

Gideon can say nothing. He takes her hand in both of his and holds it tightly.

‘It’s amazing how much we have in common.’ She is speaking as if they are newly met, but her eyes say something different. Of course—she knows, doesn’t she? Yes, she knows who he is—who they are. Here in this unknown world, in this room full of strangers, her eyes tell him she knows everything.

He does not move, does not speak. Unmindful of the crowd, he can only stand there, still holding onto her hand as if he will never let go.

‘There is so much we have shared already, and now that I’m here we have all the time in the world. Although I do sense that you may have been experiencing some difficulties.’ There is a shadow of concern in Cassandra’s voice, but her eyes are shining with amusement. ‘If you will allow me, I may be able to help.’

MOTHER JULIAN OF NORWICH

English mystic, fourteenth century

HarperCollins
Publishers

First published in 2009

This edition published in 2010
by HarperCollins
Publishers
(New Zealand) Limited

P.O. Box 1, Auckland

Copyright © Elenor Gill 2009

Elenor Gill asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.

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National Library of New Zealand Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

Gill, Elenor, 1945-

Dreams of origami / Elenor Gill

ISBN 978-1-8695-0772-5 (pbk.)

ISBN 978-0-7304-0015-8 (epub)

I. Title.

NZ823.3—dc 22

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