Chapter 25
Iwoke up the next morning feeling as if someone had parked a small car on my chest. The sensation was so intense I couldn’t draw a proper breath, and for a moment I lay there in my rumpled sheets, staring at my perfectly smooth ceiling, trying to work out what the hell was happening to me.
Was I having a heart attack? If so, it was really inopportune timing.
But somehow, I didn’t think I was. My skin prickled, and I had the distinct, bone-deep certainty I wasn’t alone in my bedroom.
“Mum?” I whispered to the empty room, feeling immediately ridiculous but unable to stop myself.
The presence — because that’s what it was, a presence — seemed to get stronger at the sound of my voice.
I’d felt this before, in the months after she died, but never this intense, never this urgent.
It was like she was trying to push something important into my consciousness, something I was too dense or too distracted to pick up on.
If Amina was here, I’d have run into her room screaming.
But she was at Noelle’s place. Instead, I fumbled for my phone and dialled Sage’s number before I could talk myself out of it.
She was the only person I knew who wouldn’t immediately suggest therapy when I told her I could feel my dead mother hovering around my bedroom like an anxious ghost. In fact, she’d positively encourage such thoughts.
“Poppy.” Her voice immediately soothed me. Maybe Sage was half-medium, half-therapist. Perhaps that’s what all mediums were.
“Sage, I’m really sorry to bother you—”
“It’s no bother.” When she said that, I believed her.
“It’s just... I think my mum’s here. In my flat. I can feel her, and it’s freaking me out.”
“Okay, take a deep breath.”
I did as I was told and was immediately calmer.
“Are you feeling pressure? Like she’s trying to get your attention?”
“Yes, exactly that. Like she’s pressing on me. Like she wants to tell me something.”
“Do you want me to come over?”
She didn’t live far from me. It wasn’t so much of an imposition. Plus, I did owe her a coffee.
“If it’s not too much trouble?”
“Message me your address.”
An hour later, Sage stood in my living room, inspecting my space with open curiosity.
Most people walked into your house and sat, glancing at things.
Not Sage. She picked up my photos, stroked my entrepreneurial books, inspected my money plant.
Her bangles chimed as she put down a photo of Amina and me at university.
“That was the year before we met on our MBA course,” I told her, filling the silence. I already knew Sage was super-comfortable with nothing being said.
“I recognise the top you’re wearing. I always thought it looked good on you. You should wear more autumnal colours.”
I nodded like I was definitely going to remember that.
But Sage wasn’t here to give me fashion advice.
“Thanks for coming over at such short notice. Can you sense anything?”
“Oh, they’re definitely here.” She glanced to one corner of our lounge, then the other.
I followed her gaze, but I couldn’t see anything. It was unnerving and maddening.
“You were right to call me. Have you felt this before?”
I nodded, and all the hairs on my arms stood up. “A few times, but I thought it was just me and how I was feeling that day. Like I got out the wrong side of the bed. But after meeting you, it’s opened my eyes to other possibilities.”
I perched on the edge of my red velvet sofa, feeling like a guest in my own home. “Why is she here? What does she want?”
Sage closed her eyes, tilting her head like she was listening to something I couldn’t hear. The silence stretched out until I was ready to scream, and then she opened her eyes and looked directly at me.
“She’s always here, always looking over you. She wants you to know that.”
Goosebumps unfurled across my body.
I hugged my arms to my chest, and held my breath.
“But she’s specifically here to issue a warning about something or someone. She’s telling you to be careful.”
Icy fear slithered down me and I tightened my fingers on my arm. “Can she be more specific?”
“She’s showing me a number 23. She says to take care of yourself.”
Number 23. Was she talking about the new launch? Was Roka going to do a number on me? I couldn’t believe she had either the time or the inclination. Plus, anything we agreed to was in a contract.
My mind immediately went to Eliza, who’d come up with the ‘23’ idea initially.
The dread that followed was so intense, nausea swelled inside me.
I didn’t want to believe it, but who else could it be?
My own sister wouldn’t betray me. It couldn’t be Fiona, who was about as straightforward as a person could be and had been nothing but loyal to our family business.
Maybe Margot? But that made no sense. She had her doubts about me taking everything over, but she’d said she’d give me a fair crack of the whip. Plus, she was family.
Which brought me back to Eliza. I reminded myself that I hardly knew her at all.
Yes, she said all the right things, but she’d only been back in my life for a few months.
People weren’t always what they seemed, especially people who fell into your life at convenient moments offering exactly what you needed.
But if that were true, why would she be going to Scotland to smooth things along? Unless she had an ulterior motive for doing that?
My head swam, and not in a good way.
“Can she give me a name?” I hated how small my voice sounded.
Sage shook her head slowly. “She’s fading now. I think she might have been here too long. Does ‘23’ mean anything to you?”
“Too many things right now. It means everything.”
After Sage left, I poured myself a coffee and walked into my home office, trying to make sense of what Sage had said.
The Voss business plan was pinned to my white board, showcasing the hours I’d spent on it before actually making it happen.
I couldn’t have done it without Eliza’s help.
She was also a key cog in where we wanted to end up.
The rational part of my brain knew that mediums were hardly reliable sources of information. But the part of me that had felt my mother’s presence, that had woken up unable to breathe couldn’t dismiss it so easily.
I thought about Switzerland, about spending two days alone with Eliza, about how easily I’d agreed, despite knowing it would complicate everything.
Maybe that was exactly what she was counting on.
?
The following week, I got the email from Roka’s people. The contracts were signed and sealed: it was all systems go. The magnitude of the achievement made me grin as I pushed back my office chair and stared out over the capital. We’d done it. I wanted to punch the air, but it seemed a little weird.
The first person I wanted to share the news with was Eliza. I picked up my phone and called her. She was still in Scotland. It went to voicemail. I exhaled, then tapped out a message.
We’ve got Roka’s signed contracts. All the prep work was worth it! Xxx
I stared at my phone, waiting for a reply. She wasn’t online. I checked my watch. It was just gone 2pm. Where was she? I tried Fiona too, but she didn’t pick up either.
Nobody else would understand. Maybe Margot? I peered across the hall, but she wasn’t in her office. She rarely was these days, choosing to work from home more often than not. I dialled her number.
“Poppy. What can I do for you?” Finally, somebody answered.
“I just wanted to let you know that Roka’s signed, and I had to tell someone!” She was third choice, but she’d do.
“That’s incredible. It’s never done until it’s signed, you know that. You’ve done it, kid.”
“Thanks.” I blushed, despite myself. I didn’t need Margot’s approval, just like she didn’t need mine when it came to Max. However, it was nice to have.
“I’m hoping this proves I can do the job at my three-month appraisal.”
Margot paused for a long moment before she replied. “It can’t harm anything, can it?”
Two hours later, my phone pinged. I picked it up, like I hadn’t been checking it constantly while mainlining coffee all afternoon.
Eliza had given my message a thumbs up. That was it. For the biggest win of my career, the deal that could save everything: a thumbs up emoji. No call back, no excited response, not even a proper message.
I stared at that pathetic little yellow thumb until my eyes hurt. Something was wrong. This wasn’t just Eliza being busy or distracted. She was avoiding me, and I needed to know the reason why.