She fixed a smile in place and breezed into the garden. Hannah saw her, launched herself from the swing, and ran across the lawn. Sally picked her up and smiled at Tamsin.
The young woman stared at her. “Sal,” she murmured. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Sally lowered Hannah to the grass and she ran off. “I… I’ve just heard that a good friend has died.” She could not, for some reason, tell Tamsin that she had witnessed the accident. “It… it’s a hell of a shock.”
“I’ll stay, Sal. I’ll put Hannah to bed. It’s fine, I’ve got nothing on tonight.”
“No you won’t, Tamsin. But thanks anyway. I’ll be okay, honestly. Get your bag and go home.”
“Hannah’s eaten.” Tamsin looked at her, concerned. “Look, it would be no trouble for me to stay.”
Tamsin took some persuading, but Sally was adamant. She wanted to be alone with Hannah tonight, read her a story before bedtime. Geoff might be away, but normality would be achieved with the daily routine of putting her daughter to bed.
When Tamsin had reluctantly departed, Sally started the familiar bedtime process. Pyjamas, brushed teeth and washed face, toilet and snuggle down in bed. She asked Hannah about her day at school, an enquiry which as usual was stonewalled with a child’s innate reluctance to vouchsafe any information she regarded as solely her own.
She read a few pages of Hannah’s current school-book, kissed her and said goodnight, feeling guilty for the perfunctory performance as she turned off the light and left the room.
She stood in the middle of the lounge, crammed with bookcases, old chairs and sofas, the walls hung with pictures and prints. Kath had never seen the house, and Sally would have enjoyed giving her a guided tour. On top of one bookcase was an old photo of Sally and Kath in their college days, picnicking beside the Thames. Sally picked it up and stared at the twenty-two year-old Kath laughing at something she, Sally, had said or done.
She ran to her study, activated her softscreen and tapped in Geoff’s code. The time here was eight, which meant that it would be five in the morning in Japan — but would Geoff have finished his work for the Serene yet? Even though Geoff had told her what time he was due to complete what he called his ‘shift,’ for the life of her she could not remember what he’d said.
The screen remained blank and a neutral female voice said, “Geoff Allen is unable to take your call at the moment. If you would like to leave a message after the tone…”
She held back a sob and said, “Geoff. Something awful… Hannah’s fine and so am I. It’s Kath. There was an accident. I saw it.” She wept, despite her best intentions not to. “Oh, Geoff, it was awful, awful… Please ring me back as soon as you can. I love you.”
She cut the connection and sat staring at the blank screen.
She emailed her manager at the practice, told him that she wouldn’t be in tomorrow due to the sudden death of a very close friend, then moved to the kitchen and made herself a big pot of green tea. She thought about eating and vetoed the idea. Food, at the moment, was the last thing she wanted.
She curled up in her chair by the picture window, as the sun lowered itself towards the hazy Shropshire hills, and sipped the tea. Somehow the picture of herself and Kath was in her lap, though she had no recollection of carrying it into the study.
A thought flashed across her mind and would not go away. What a stupid, stupid death… A death that someone like Kath did not deserve. She was exactly Sally’s age, fifty-three, far too young to die when she had so much life ahead of her, so much important work to do, so much to see… She thought of Mars, and how wonderful it would have been to walk together across the meadows — or whatever! — in the shadow of Olympus Mons.
Always assuming, of course, she and Geoff had agreed to the move.
And what of the job offer now? Should she relocate to the red planet, leave behind all that was familiar, merely because the Serene had suggested it? Without Kath there to shepherd her through, it seemed unlikely.
Lord, but she missed Geoff on his days away. It was only for two or three days a month, but it always seemed much longer to her. In between his work for the Serene, he worked from home editing the photos taken on his previous trip, and was away for two days or so on commissions for the agency, which somehow never seemed as long as his Serene work.
They had discussed this, and wondered if it was something to do with the fact that there was an unknown element about the Serene commissions. For half of the time he was away he was unconscious, his body a puppet of the Serene, to do with as they wished. Perhaps, she thought, it wouldn’t be so bad if she knew exactly what kind of work he was doing.
She finished her tea and made her way to the bedroom in the eaves of the house.
She lay awake for a couple of hours, her head full of Kath — flashing alternative images of her friend in her college days, and the smile she had given Sally across the top of the car as she’d quoted Housman just seconds before…
She slept badly and awoke, with a start, at seven when Hannah — a ball of oblivious energy — sprinted into the bedroom and launched herself onto the bed.
They had breakfast together and Tamsin arrived at eight-thirty to tidy up and take Hannah to school. Sally told Tamsin to take the day off — normally on Thursdays she came back and did the cleaning and washing, but today Sally wanted to lose herself in the routine of housework.
“If you’re sure…”
“I’m not going into work, Tamsin. I need to fill the time with something.”
At ten to nine she accompanied Hannah and Tamsin outside and waved them off as Tamsin pulled her electric car from the drive. She sighed, standing alone and hugging herself in the bright summer sunlight, then returned inside.
A strong coffee, housework…
An insistent pinging issued from her study, and her heart kicked. Geoff, getting back to her.
She hurried through the house and accepted the call.
The screen was briefly blank, then flared. The image showed a woman in her early fifties, smiling out at her apprehensively.
Kath…
Sally sat back in her chair as if something had slammed into her chest.
Then she knew what had happened. Kath had called the previous afternoon, and the message had been delayed.
“Sally, I know this will be something of a shock.”
Blood thundered through her head, slowing her thinking.
“Sally, it’s me, Kath. I’m sorry for doing this. Perhaps I should have come round to the house in person, in the flesh…”
Her voice croaked, “Kath?”
Her friend’s expression was filled with compassion, understanding. She said, “Sally, what happened yesterday… I’d like to come around, see you and explain.”
Sally managed to say, “But you were dead. I saw it happen. I saw it… You were dead!”
“I’ll be around to see you in a few minutes, Sally.” Kath smiled one last time and cut the connection.
Sally sat very still, hugged herself and repeated incredulously, “But you were dead…”
CHAPTER TWO
AS THE TRAIN pulled into Howrah station, Ana Devi had no sense at all of coming home.
She had assumed, on the long journey north across the Deccan plain, that she would feel a certain identification with the place where, from the age of six to sixteen, she had spent all her life. She had a store of memories both good and bad — with the good, oddly enough, outweighing the bad. She supposed that that was because she had not been alone here, a street kid scraping a living on an inimical city station, but had been surrounded by a makeshift family which had shared her experiences. She had transplanted her family to central India, and the fact that they had taken on good jobs and prospered meant that, despite their harsh upbringing, they had prevailed.