Small Blue Thing (25 page)

Callum got more and more twitchy the closer we got to the cathedral. I tried to think of things I could say to calm him down, but given how nervous I was feeling I wasn’t able to do much good. Finally, we made it to the front steps. The imposing portico loomed up above us and I suddenly felt very scared.

“Callum, can the other Dirges see me? Are they expecting me?”

“Relax,” he whispered. “Most of them are out gathering.”

I really didn’t believe him. If this was an unusual event in an otherwise completely unchanging daily grind, I was willing to bet that most of them would be watching.

“You are such a liar! Come on, how many are looking?”

He gave a nervous laugh. “OK. I was just trying to make you feel more relaxed. I think they’re pretty much all here.”

“Oh! I wish I hadn’t asked. Is Matthew there too?”

“Yep. He’s there waiting.”

“For you, I hope.”

“No! For you, of course. He sees me every day.” He was trying to sound casual but was failing miserably.

I took a deep breath. “What do I have to do?”

“Once we get to the top I’ll get out of the way and Matthew will join you.” It sounded as if he was as nervous as I was.

My heart pounded. “Have you any last minute advice, or anything?” I asked as we started climbing up the steps.

“Just be you. It’ll be fine.” He kissed me quickly and then whispered, “Stop behind the pillars by the main doors. I promise I’ll be right by your side.”

The steps were dotted with tourists, some standing looking down Ludgate Hill or poring over maps, some sitting eating ice creams or sandwiches, and still others just enjoying the sunshine. I worked my way around them all to the top, and then went past the immense pillars. It was relatively quiet as the tourist entrances were to either side. The big doors here obviously only opened on special occasions. I stopped where there was a reasonable amount of space around me: I didn’t want too much of an audience for what I was about to do.

My mouth was dry with nerves. I got out my water and had a quick swig before I pulled out the little mirror. My earpiece was already in place. I swiftly scanned around me and almost dropped the mirror as I suddenly realised that I was in the middle of a huge crowd of dark-cloaked figures. For a split second I was frozen with fear and an urge to run almost overcame me, but then I caught sight of Callum watching me anxiously and tried to calm down: I was doing this for him, I remembered. I adjusted my earpiece and spoke clearly. “Hello, Matthew, Callum tells me you would like to meet me.”

There was the tingle in my wrist, subtly different from the one I was used to, and I glanced in the mirror. Matthew was standing in front of me with his hand extended towards mine, our amulets occupying the same space. He was shorter and stockier
than I expected, with close-cropped grey hair and fierce, deeply-set eyes. I almost stepped back and broke the connection, but I recovered myself in time. I smiled at him. “I’m Alex. Callum has told me a lot about you.”

I couldn’t really follow his expression in the mirror without it appearing odd to ordinary onlookers so it was hard to see his reaction. The voice that suddenly boomed in my head was brash and tough, but not unfriendly. “Welcome, Alex. We’re all very happy to meet you.”

The volume nearly made me stagger back, and I was too surprised to properly notice the warmth of his voice. “Oh… me too. But, please: – I can hear you very well if you talk quietly,” I tried to say at a normal volume.

“Ah, right, sorry.” The deafening voice reduced in volume to an almost bearable level. “I’ve not spoken to anyone real this way before – not really sure of how it all works.” I could hear the East End accent in his voice and wondered how long he had been a Dirge.

I smiled weakly. “Of course. I understand.” It felt a little lame, but what could I add? Where could I possibly start?

“Now, I’ve got plenty of questions for you, but I know that it’s not me you want to talk to. I’ll let you and Callum work out what new talents you’ve got, and we can talk later.” The tough voice was almost chuckling so I had to sneak a quick peep at him. He looked as if he had surprised himself by laughing. It was clearly not something he did every day.

“Thank you, Matthew,” I whispered. “I’ll call you.”

I saw him give a brief nod, then the tingle stopped and I was alone.

St Paul's

Callum was back with me in an instant, and I gave a quiet sigh of relief. “Can they still hear what we are saying?” I whispered.

“Uh-huh,” he mumbled. “Let's go inside quickly, and then we can relax.”

I walked along the front of the cathedral away from the huge ornamental doors to the tourist entrance on the left. The place was full of people milling about, speaking a multitude of different languages, and staring up in awe at the inside of the building. Almost all had a bright yellow light flickering above their heads and the effect was mesmerising. I shuffled along in the ticket queue totally absorbed in watching their visible thoughts. There was no doubt that whatever talent I had was stronger here: I could see differences in the intensity of the yellow lights, and the hints of red that I'd seen on the street, and which here were mostly over the people in the queue, were much clearer. I also got my first glimpse of a purple mist that surrounded an elderly lady who was leaving.

I was starting to get pretty excited. When I finally made it to the ticket desk, the man looked up from under his red cloud.

“Yes?” he asked in a bored tone. I had no idea where in the cathedral Callum wanted me to go, but he was still with me so I would have to ask.

“Oh, now, where do I want to go? What are the options?” I smiled sweetly at the man hoping Callum would take the hint.

He looked at me as if I was mad, the red cloud intensifying in colour. “Options? What do you mean? You want an adult ticket, right?” The line behind me started to fidget, but finally Callum got it.

“Sorry! I forgot. You want to go up to the very top of the dome.”

“A student ticket including the top of the dome, please.” I smiled again and flashed my student ID card as he scowled at me.

“Whispering Gallery's open, Stone Gallery's open, Golden Gallery at the top's shut for maintenance,” he announced in a bored tone as he took my money. “All one ticket price anyway. ‘Options'…” He tutted to himself as I moved aside for the next customer.

Finally I was in the vast emptiness of the belly of the church. The concentration of visitors at the entrance suddenly gave way to the stillness of the enormous space. I walked up the nave towards the dome and almost jumped when I heard Callum's voice in my head.

“You need to go to the stairs.”

“Can't we go under the centre of the dome first? It would be great to be able to see you in front of me again.”

“Later. We can't do that right now, anyway: there is a service in progress.”

I looked up the nave and saw that he was right. There were a number of people sitting in the chairs surrounding the central star, and the minister was up by the altar.

“OK. Let's go up the stairs, then. But I can't get to the top: the man said it was shut.”

“I don't think we need to worry about that. I can sneak you through. Head over towards that woman in the red.”

As I located the woman, I was conscious of other movement,
of insubstantial cloaked figures just disappearing out of sight. I turned to look at Callum and there was a hint of him in the air, like a reflection in a pane of glass, a ghostly, half-transparent shape with the face I loved.

“I can see you!” I exclaimed, far too loudly. “Did you know?” I added in a whisper as a passing tourist gave me a disapproving stare.

“I hoped it might make a difference. The effect should be greatest at the top.” He was trying to sound cool and calm but I could feel the edge of excitement in his voice too.

We had walked to the entrance to the stairs, so I showed my ticket and walked in. There was a notice warning that it was five hundred and twenty eight steps to the top. “Couldn't you have arranged something a bit lower?” I joked.

“Well, I guess if I'm not worth a bit of effort…”

“I'm going, I'm going.” I laughed as I set off.

“I'm going to go ahead. Carry on up, and just ignore any barriers. I'll see you at the top.”

The stairs up to the Whispering Gallery were in a wide spiral and very shallow. In my impatience I took them two at time, passing struggling tourists easily. It seemed as if the staircase would never end, but finally I was working my way through the narrow corridors to the gallery itself. I paused for a moment and looked down at the view to the beautiful floor below. The pattern was spectacular from here, and lit with long beams of sunlight dancing in from the windows.

As I looked up from the view below me, I gasped. Sitting around the gallery on the thin stone bench running round its edge were dozens of shadowy, cloaked figures. Most had their hoods up, concealing their faces. It was as if they were superimposed on
another scene, as the more solid tourists played with the acoustics around them.

For a moment I experienced another wave of fear, the sense that I should have nothing to do with this strange, ethereal group. But then I glanced behind me, and caught a glimpse of a few of the faces hiding in the nearest hoods. They were just ordinary faces wearing looks of wonder and puzzlement as they looked at me. I smiled at a brown-haired girl who looked younger than me, and she immediately blushed and looked down, but I did see a brief twitch of her lips before she hid her face.

The tourists could see nothing. As they sat on the stone bench, the Dirges seemed to glide out of their way. I had to walk past them to get to the entrance to the next stairway, which was right on the other side of the gallery. Most of them shrank back towards the wall as I passed, but some acknowledged me with a nod.

Through the next door, the stairs carried on relentlessly upwards. At the Stone Gallery, which circled the base of the dome on the outside, I stepped out into the welcome breeze, and I quickly looked around me for cloaked figures, but there were none. I only stayed long enough to let the pain in my calves settle, and then I headed on to the entrance to the stairs for the Golden Gallery. As the grumpy ticket man had predicted, there was a barrier by the entrance with a sign saying that the gallery was shut. I glanced around me. All the tourists were concentrating on the view, so I quickly jumped over the barrier and into the cool gloom beyond.

I remembered from my previous visits that this was the strangest and scariest part of the climb to the top – the open-tread iron stairs winding up between the inner and the outer domes, intertwined with the huge cage of massive timber beams that held
the whole thing up. The drop below was dizzying, and I kept my eyes firmly fixed on the steps ahead of me.

The muscles in my legs screamed in protest as I finally approached the top, and I stopped at a small room with the peephole through which you could see all the way down to the star on the cathedral floor directly below – the point where I'd stood when I saw Callum. I waited for a moment to catch my breath, but I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and the butterflies in my stomach. I tried to persuade myself that I might not be able to see Callum properly, and told myself that I shouldn't be too disappointed if what he seemed to be expecting, whatever that was, didn't work. I took another swig of water, ran my fingers through my hair and squared my shoulders. I walked up the last dozen or so steps and pushed open the door into the bright sunshine.

As my eyes adjusted I could see the panorama of London laid out before me, the glass buildings glistening in the light and the river meandering past the London Eye. In front of me there was only the gold-coloured iron railing. I looked around – the Golden Gallery was tiny, a miniature balcony set on top of the dome and around the base of the tower holding the huge ball and cross. There was very little space between the stone structure and the circular railings and I could see immediately that Callum wasn't by the entrance, but my disappointment quickly gave way to hope that he might be round the other side, overlooking the eastern part of the city.

I called out tentatively. “Callum? Are you up here?”

“Over here!” My heart leapt, and I just had time to register that there was something different about the familiar voice that answered that I couldn't define before I squeezed my way round to the far side of the gallery.

Callum was standing by the battered old railing, waiting for me. I could see him perfectly. His cloak was on the ground and the sunshine caught the fire in his eyes. I could see every fold in his shirt, every hair on his head, every detail of the long, strong arms that were held out to me in welcome.

His beauty and his presence stunned me, and for a strange moment I was overcome by shyness. And part of me wanted to stay where I was – just far enough away to believe that he was real – to avoid the disappointment of finding that I couldn't touch him however well I could see him. But then I looked into his eyes and was overwhelmed with the love I could see there. I couldn't resist: I stepped towards him and reached up to stroke his face.

It felt as if a bolt of electricity went through me as I touched –
actually touched
– the firm skin of his cheek. I felt its warmth and contours and the bones below, and then I felt it move underneath my fingers as he smiled and pulled my hand down to his mouth and kissed my palm.

I was speechless. I put out my other hand and touched his chest, and I could feel his heart beating as fast as mine. He looked down into my eyes and suddenly pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around me. I felt faint with the pleasure of it. It was so much better, so much
more
,
even than I had imagined. His strong arms held me tight and for a second he lifted me off the ground.

“Oh, Alex, I can hardly believe it! We've done it!” he breathed, his lips brushing my forehead.

I pulled back in astonishment. “I can hear you, too! Properly, not just in my head.”

He smiled at me indulgently. “I'm all yours now. We can talk all you like.”

“Actually, talking is not at the top of my list. This –
this
– is
what I've been wanting to do since I first saw you,” I said, and I put my hands behind his head and pulled his mouth down towards me. His lips finally found mine: I never wanted the kiss to stop.

“That was worth waiting for,” I murmured as our lips finally parted, and I rested my cheek against his shirt.

“Really?” he asked. “You know, I've no idea how much experience of all this I have. I don't want to let you down.”

I stole a quick glance at him. He was looking down at me with such openness and honesty that I thought my heart would burst with love. His deep blue eyes burned with passion. “I didn't think it was possible to love you any more than I already did, but to have you here, to hold you in my arms, to kiss your lips… I can't believe my luck.” He pulled me even closer to him and I could feel the muscles of his chest beneath his shirt.

“I can't believe that we came so close to losing each other, but it was worth it to find that we can actually do this.” I ran my hand lightly over his bicep, then under his elbow and round to the back of his waist. Every part of him was perfect. Callum kissed the top of my head and reflectively stroked the full length of my hair to the base of my spine. I shivered with pleasure.

“Just think,” I murmured. “Perhaps Catherine did us a favour. We might never have got to this without her interference. We could have spent the rest of our lives just looking at each other in a mirror.” I leaned back to look at his face. “This way I get to know rather more of you.” My hand pressed into the small of his back as I pulled him towards me again.

“So how can this all work?” I asked as I sat on his lap, resting my head against his shoulder. I couldn't stop touching him, feeling the sinews and the muscles in his arms, running my fingers through his hair at last.

He was just as compelled to touch me, and couldn't stop leaning in to kiss me again every few minutes. “I really don't know, but when I told Matthew yesterday that you could see the auras, he seemed to think that this might be a possibility. That first time you saw me – when I was directly under here – you didn't need a mirror then. We think that there is something about the dome which concentrates the energy – the essence – of us, and at the very top it's at its strongest. And when you combine that with the effects of the amulet on you – and, of course, the strongest possible connection,” he kissed me again, “well, this is the result.” He smiled briefly. “At least, that was Matthew's theory, but I really didn't know whether to believe it, and I didn't want you to be disappointed if it wasn't the case, so I'm sorry that I didn't warn you.”

I traced my finger down his jawline, admiring the contours. “I forgive you. It was the best surprise I could ever have been given.” I luxuriated in the feel of him. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the balcony with me nestled into his lap and I was conscious of being warmed by him as well as by the sun. I felt like purring like a cat, I was so content.