Chapter Nine
‘Skye, you have to come!’ Felix was almost on his knees. ‘What was the point in coming all the way out here if you’re going to spend the whole convention hiding in your fucking room ?’
I pulled another pillow in front of me. ‘All those people, Fe. They’ve all seen me dribbling and vomiting and all gakky and disgusting and most of them have seen us being chucked out of the diner. Why, in God’s name, would you think I’d want to be seen again by any of them, in any state? I can only imagine what might happen next; my knickers fall to my knees, perhaps? My boobs roll out of my top and settle on the table just as the waiters bring in a bowl of melons?’
‘You are over-reacting, darling.’
‘Believe me, refusing to go to this dinner is under -reacting on a scale you can’t imagine.’
‘But wouldn’t you like Gethryn to see you all done up properly? Give him a chance to check you out when you’ve got your make-up on and you’re dressed up? After all,’ Felix lowered his voice, ‘he did wink at you earlier on. And that was when you were totally scuzzy. See what he thinks of the delicious Skye Threppel when she’s got up like a Scissor Sisters concert.’
‘Not helping.’ But I had to admit my morning run-in with Gethryn had given a new edge to the possibility of going out in public. ‘Besides, look at my hair. I can’t appear in public with hair like this, they’ll think Sasquatch is making a guest appearance.’ To illustrate my point I raked my hands over my scalp and they jammed half-way through, making my hair jut at odd angles.
‘Oh, that is easily sorted.’ He dragged his phone from his pocket and tapped in a quick text. The answer beeped back almost immediately. ‘Wait there.’ And he leapt up and ran out of the door.
I stared at myself in the mirror across the room. A lengthy shower and sleep had removed the evidence of my morning’s activities, leaving me looking at the real me. All frizzy hair and skinny shoulders, in a vest top that made my chest look like two poached eggs on a plank. And scars. I lifted my fringe and traced the scar downwards, through my eyebrow, round my eye socket where it had thankfully not affected my sight, and down to the top of my cheekbone, where it split into two before fading out in a little radius of tiny lines, like a sunburst. I’d seen out 2008 as a whole, unblemished actress and only hours later my entire life had revolved around an unknown degree of brain damage and scars. Passing time had seen this one blur and whiten, from an evil incision-red, marked with the dashes of staples, to a pale pink, stammering over half-healed sections which continually peeled away in patches of renewed redness. It was healing. Cleanly and without infection. And this made me lucky .
Part of me could appreciate the irony. I was lucky not to be dead. Of course I was. But not being dead meant living with scars which marked me so resolutely, so absolutely, that it had stopped my career as dead as I wasn’t. Casting directors didn’t want a girl with a huge brand down one side of her face. I was too noticeable. Maybe, in a few years? . . .
Yeah. Maybe.
‘Fingers!’ Felix barked as he walked back in, and I untwisted my hands, stopped picking. ‘I got you some hair gunk. What’cha think?’ With a flourish, he pulled out a bottle I didn’t recognise and passed it to me. ‘Some kind of Yank stuff. Reckon it makes your hair smooth. Want to try?’
Despite myself I found I was tipping hair-smoother into my palm. Curious. ‘Where did you get this from?’ Stroked a tiny amount through a few strands and was amazed. ‘It actually works.’
‘Lissa.’
‘Oh. Okay. Are you sure she gave it to you? Only I know that you sometimes have a very loose interpretation of “borrowing” things.’
He shrugged. ‘I asked if I could have it and she said yes. She didn’t mention returning it, all right? Anyway, come on, I want to get you out of here and downstairs asap, sweetie.’
‘And she’s all right about my having it?’ Felix said nothing. ‘So that would be, why?’
He avoided meeting my eye. ‘Lissa and I, we got talking, she’s very? . . . amusing.’
I pulled back to look at him, all buffed up and wearing black. ‘Right. I know. That kind of amusing.’
‘Come on, Skye, you’ve seen her, would you turn it down? I mean, really?’
I shrugged. ‘It’s up to you. But do you really want Jack looking over your shoulder all the time?’ I finished rubbing serum-covered fingers through my hair and let it lie, unaccustomedly slick, on my shoulders; dabbed mascara at my eyes and applied my usual cover-up make-up, adding an extra layer for luck and Gethryn-potential.
‘Nah, they’re long over. And even then it was just a thing, she says. Between you and me, I think there was some serious shit going on with this show. You know the online chat, come on, give.’
I shrugged, stared at my reflection and wondered what people would see if I ventured downstairs. A scarred girl trying too hard? ‘First series ran into trouble and nearly got cancelled, but there was an online campaign to keep it going and it got picked up again. They do that sometimes over here, if there’s enough advertising revenue coming in.’ I shook my head and my hair amazed me by following the movement. Usually it flared out and surrounded my face, leaving me peeping out like the aftermath of a cartoon explosion.
‘And talking of picking things up? . . .’ Felix handed me my smart white top. ‘You and Jack, eh? Mind you, I wouldn’t throw him out of bed for eating oysters.’
‘We’ve yet to find anyone you’d throw out of bed; you’re not exactly discriminating, are you? And it’s not like that. He’s nice. He’s kind. But that’s all.’
‘Holding out for the big guy are you?’ Felix was looking at me with an expression I couldn’t read.
‘Hardly! And anyway? . . .’ I dropped my hand away from my face, ‘I can’t do it. I mean, who am I trying to kid, dressing up like this and doing my hair and everything? I’m a failed actress with a stonking great scar, not the kind of person you want me to be. This whole thing? . . . it’s not that I’m not grateful, Fe, and it’s fantastic that I’m here and I’ve met new people? . . . well, one new person, and all that, but? . . . a dinner ? With people standing around talking?’ All my insides took a little step sideways. ‘I’ll stay up here.’ Useless, useless Skye.
‘But you can’t . You can’t spend the whole convention up here!’ As though he’d scared himself, Fe stopped, ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat. ‘Just? . . . look. You came to get a chance to meet Gethryn Tudor-Morgan, right?’
I scrunched up my face, but didn’t reply.
‘All right. And down there, it’s not like it’s a top-hat-and-tails do. It’s a buffet, meet-the-stars kind of thing. You’re looking gorgeous — believe it, sweetie — and you’ve already broken the ice, so to speak, downstairs earlier. Come on, you want Gethryn to see you in a good light, don’t you?’
My fingers went again to my scar. ‘I’d actually prefer him to see me in total darkness.’
‘Mmmmm . . .’ Felix ran his hands up and down his body, suggestively. ‘Gethryn, by Braille. Bet he’s a fluent body-reader.’
‘He’d hear nothing from mine.’
‘Do you want some of the Valium? It would help? . . . take the edge off.’
I thought about it. ‘No. I don’t really need it, I just panicked. After all, even with the make-up people are going to see the scar, they’re going to think whatever they think whether I’ve taken Valium or not. I’m tired of being dependent, on you, on drugs, on the doctors.’
He stared at me. ‘Grief, one drunken episode with a gorgeous man and you’re swearing off pharmaceuticals? They should put him on the NHS.’
‘I’m tired of feeling out of control. I want a life, Fe. I know it won’t be the old one back again, and I know I’m going to have to work at it, but, now I’m here I think I should try.’ I sat down on the bed. ‘Except? . . . I’m not sure trying involves being in a crowded place.’
Felix gave me one of his Looks, and handed me my black trousers. ‘Even if a very large part of that crowd is Gethryn? You want him, you know it. And don’t try to tell me otherwise, when your nipples are sticking up like a couple of brass door handles at the thought of meeting him. Look, if you can’t do it for yourself, do it for me.’ Another unreadable look. ‘For Faith. You know if she was here she’d be so excited; she’d have you in one of your old tarty frocks, flaunting it from here to Arkansas. Wouldn’t she? Wouldn’t she, Skye? ’
I felt the shiver I always felt when he talked about Faith. As though my skin was trying to get my attention. ‘Yes, she would.’
‘So?’ Felix did a little dance on the spot. ‘Can you at least try? For my sister?’
For Faith. For my beautiful best friend. Could I? ‘Don’t leave me, will you, Fe?’
Felix stood up and held out his arm. ‘I will be stapled to your side all evening. As long as you don’t end up heaving in the Ladies’, of course.’ Cautiously I hooked my arm through his. ‘Right. Let’s get laid!’ Then, seeing my look, ‘Figure of speech, sweetheart, figure of speech.’
* * *
The party was restricted to those convention-goers who were actually staying in the motel, the day-visitors being bussed in from the town an hour’s drive away every morning, so the numbers were far lower than had flooded around in reception earlier. A brave few had come in costume and there was something oddly unsettling about watching a Shadow pilot juggle a plate of nibbles and a glass of red wine alongside his blaster rifle. The two lads dressed as Skeel were labouring around the room under the weight of their cylinders, unable to eat because of the full-face helmets their outfits dictated, playing their parts to the max, while the rest of us who wore street clothes hung around the walls like kids at a school disco, waiting for the Big Boys to arrive. The diner was stripped out, tables stacked to the sides and the buffet laid down the centre on trestles. A projector showed a constant stream of images from the show on a huge screen made by closing off the door at the end furthest from reception and putting a board across it but despite the organisers’ best efforts it still felt like a canteen in fancy dress.
But Felix was right. Having already been faced with most of these people, and particularly when I’d been at my physical lowest, had broken the ice for me a little. Although I felt as though I was travelling inside an egg-shell which might shatter into a million shards at any moment, no-one looked, no-one stared or nudged their neighbour, no-one whispered.
As Felix and I made as unobtrusive an entrance as possible, we were overtaken by two of Gethryn’s co-stars, who immediately started milling around and chatting to people.
‘Who’re they?’ Felix nudged me.
I pointed at the pale, blond lad in the tight blue sari-style costume. ‘Jared White, who plays Defries, Lucas James’s second-in-command, and the girl is Martha Cohen. She’s Defries’s wife. B’Ha, but she’s on their side because her family were wiped out in the war.’
‘ Verrrry nice.’ He hustled me up to the tables, picked up a paper plate and began scouting, knowing Felix, for the most phallic-shaped food on offer.
I looked at Martha again. ‘She’s almost impossible to recognise, out of make-up. Wouldn’t have known who she was, except? . . .’
‘I meant, him .’ Felix picked up a carrot baton and nibbled the end, suggestively. Left it a moment, then smiled across the room. To my amazement, he got a smile in return. ‘Wheyhey, looks like I’ve still got it, babe.’
‘ Felix. ’
He jabbed the plate at me, until I took it. ‘Just popping over to introduce myself.’
Don’t leave me, I was too late to say. He was gone, crossing the room, armed with nothing but a smile and a root vegetable. I watched, envying his physical ease and his wit, his absolute certainty that life wouldn’t let him down. I’d been like that once. Hadn’t I? The room rocked with the sudden doubt. What had I been like? I had to search through scrambled memories just to try to pin myself down — a floating collection of thoughts and doubts with islands of complete remembrance jutting from them like little gold nuggets in a coal seam. And that missing year hadn’t even left a smear of memory behind; it had been stolen from me completely. No-one ever really talked about the time before the accident, not Felix, not my briefly visiting parents, nor the occasional passing friend. Maybe they didn’t want to upset me by reminding me of everything I’d lost, maybe they were upset on their own behalves that I couldn’t remember them, or that I’d lost so many memories that they thought I should have treasured. But it meant that my whole identity had to be assumed, I had nothing of my past adult self to build upon. All I had was those typically distant memories of childhood, my fuzzed-over adolescence and then nothing but fragments which could have been dreams. I was like a huge newborn baby, learning everything for the first time.
I looked down at the plate and concentrated on the creases in its cardboard. I felt okay as long as I didn’t think about how full the room was, and I was eating, well, snacking, looking interested — just like a real person . No-one could tell that I couldn’t even remember if I’d grown to like pickles; and if I didn’t think about how many people there were, milling about in that small space, where I couldn’t touch the walls, I’d be fine. Fine, yes, if I didn’t think about the people breathing my air, holding me in place so I couldn’t run, couldn’t get out, get out? . . .
I found myself standing in the dusty yard, plate still in hand, unable to remember how I’d got through the crowd and slightly surprised, because I hadn’t consciously felt stressed, until I’d run. And yet, here I was, gasping, dragging the hot air down into my lungs, feeling it scritch and swirl down my throat, knowing that I couldn’t be dying because I was breathing. My heart chiselled away at my ribs and I had to drop the plate because my hands were shaking so much.
It was caught before it hit the ground. ‘Careful, girl. They’re valuable, these plates. Ten dollars per hundred, see?’
Clenching my toes to prevent the incipient faint, I looked up. Gethryn stood beside me, his own plate in his hand and his face wrapped in a smile that I wasn’t sure was for me. I looked over my shoulder, but there was nothing there apart from the scrubby cactuses which had been planted all along the wall. He couldn’t be smiling at a cactus, could he? Cautiously I smiled back.
‘That’s better. Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be frowning. You’ll give yourself wrinkles.’ A hand extended my way. ‘Name’s Gethryn. Unless you knew that, in which case just call me Mr Moron.’
‘I? . . . did know.’ Almost afraid to make contact in case he disseminated into a stream of atoms, I touched his hand. Cool and sure it closed around mine. ‘I’m Skye.’ Still trembling.
He didn’t seem to notice the vibration of my fingers. Gave my hand a firm shake. ‘Jesus, I’m glad to meet someone who’s not completely barking.’ A confidentially lowered voice. ‘Most of the women in there? They’d have the boxers off my arse if I stopped moving long enough. Christ, fans are bad when they’re at a distance, never mind being trapped in a room with a hundred of the buggers.’ He tipped his head towards the people standing at the doors to the diner or sitting on the steps that led down, out into the desert, chatting to one another and pretending not to know who he was.
‘Actually, I’m a fan,’ I managed to stammer out. ‘I’m here for the convention.’
Gorgeous tawny eyes met mine and a firm hand under my elbow guided me further from the pretending-not-to-be-listening crowd. ‘Ah, but you’re not barking though, are you? Haven’t noticed you lifting your top to get your boobs signed, or sitting outside my trailer all night in a tiny little dress and no knickers.’
I couldn’t force my eyes away from his face. Gethryn must have thought I had some kind of staring disorder. ‘I? . . . like? . . . the programme.’
Yeah, that’s kind of the definition of ‘fan’, I berated myself from inside my head, but Gethryn was gracious. ‘Thanks, bach . If only I could have stayed on? . . . I had plans for Lucas James — oh, never mind.’
Now I could only nod. I felt much as I should think a toddler feels on being quizzed by a department-store Santa, as though I was in the presence of a representative of God. Every millimetre of his face was familiar to me, yet I still couldn’t stop my eyes from blazing all over it, seeing the raised lines of stubble around his mouth and the way his lips pouted around his Welsh accent. In the show he spoke with a generic English inflection; there was something erotic beyond words at the dips and swoops of the Brecon intonation. There was something about the way he said bach that made it sound far more intimate and sexy than the English equivalent ‘dear’. And he was still holding my hand . I was afraid to move and draw attention to the fact, so I just stood. My mouth was open slightly, I didn’t dare lick my lips, he might think I was drooling, so I just gaped at half-mast and hoped that I didn’t look like the village idiot.
‘You looked a bit panicked in there.’ Gethryn spoke again; his voice was quieter now, for me only. ‘Not like crowds then, cariad ?’
Cariad? Had he just called me darling ?
‘I’m not good with lots of people, no.’ He didn’t need to know about the stress thing that caused the anxiety attacks; it might make him revise his opinion of me up to Grade Two Bonkers.
Gethryn moved closer, half a step, a full step. Now he was right beside me and I could feel him breathing, the weight of his pale linen suit brushing against my wrist. ‘Something we have in common, lovely, I don’t like the crowds so much either. It’s a stupid profession that I’m in for someone who hates gatherings like this, but, hey, you do what you’re good at, don’t you?’
I gave a hard, slow blink to stop myself wondering exactly what else he was good at. ‘Where’s your? . . . every time I’ve seen you there’s been? . . . security men?’
‘Ah, Bill and Ben the Flowerpot Men. Given them the slip for a moment.’ He gestured towards a bottle of Scotch and a single, full glass balanced on the wall near the steps. ‘Just wanted some fresh air and a drink of something that doesn’t taste like mule’s piss.’ The voice dropped to that whisper again and I had to lean in close to catch his words. ‘You won’t give me away, will you, bach ?’ He shook his head, comically scuffing a toe in the sand like a child.
Suddenly there was a presence at my other shoulder.
‘Geth? You’re wanted inside. They’re going to announce the arrangements for tomorrow’s Big Competition, you have to be there.’
‘Oh, what? Why? Can’t they get on without me?’
‘You’re the star .’ Jack’s voice was bitter. ‘Of course they can’t do it without you.’
‘But? . . .’
‘Geth.’ Warning, now.
‘Oh, fuck. All right, boy, I’ll be there. Keep your shirt on.’ Gethryn turned to me. ‘Rain check on this then, bach , yes?’ And before I could answer he’d headed back up the steps into the diner.
I stayed where he’d left me, stunned. Half-consciously rubbing my scar with the back of my hand and making a mental note to always always use this brand of cover-up. Mouth still open.
‘And you, pull yourself together.’ Jack spoke from between clenched teeth. ‘Mr Fantastic has gone now.’
‘I can’t believe? . . .’ I was staring into space. ‘He spoke to me. He actually spoke to me!’
‘Whoopee doo.’ Jack sounded sardonic now. ‘Is that his drink?’ He gestured towards the bottle and glass on the wall.
‘No.’ I wanted Jack to give me the bottle. It was something Gethryn had touched. I would keep it forever. And I was never going to wash this hand again.
‘Okay. If you say so.’ Jack gave me an odd look. A sudden renegade breeze startled his hair over his face and, as he brushed it back, I noticed his eyes looked worried. Unsettled. ‘Just? . . . Skye. Gethryn isn’t? . . . He’s sometimes a bit? . . . difficult, you know?’
‘You don’t have to worry about me,’ I said tightly. ‘I’m capable of looking out for myself.’
All I got for that was an ironically raised eyebrow which, bearing in mind this morning’s little fiasco, had a point. ‘I realise that I’m shouting prayers in the Church of Satan here but just? . . . be careful. That’s all.’
He was more smartly dressed than I’d seen him before, I noticed now. A proper shirt, and jeans that were if not exactly dressy, then at least clean. He wore a narrow-framed pair of glasses and for one tiny second I felt a tickle of familiarity. I’ve seen you somewhere before. A long time ago? . . . Before the accident? Possibly, but this had the feeling of not being part of the memory loss, simply something I couldn’t immediately recall. Perfectly normal not-remembering of something? . . . Something that came associated with? . . . trouble?
‘Oh, there you are.’ Felix came fussing across the yard like a hen whose chicks have become dispersed. ‘Fancy a stroll?’
Jack stared at him. ‘Are you not going to listen to the announcement about tomorrow’s qu–’
Felix cut him off. ‘Are you feeling all right, Skye? You’re a bit pink? . . . Did it all get a bit much?’
‘She’s been having a tête-à-tête with Mr Tudor-Morgan.’ Jack’s voice was dry.
‘I’d actually quite like to go inside now.’ I tried to disengage myself from Felix’s arm but he had a surprisingly strong grip on my elbow.
‘Oh, it’s nothing important. I shouldn’t think,’ he added hastily. ‘But shouldn’t you be? . . . ?’ A nod to Jack and an indication of the head towards the rapidly filling diner, where I could see Gethryn being hustled towards an empty square of flooring, being kept free from people by more of the jacketed security men. ‘Don’t they need you?’
Jack shrugged and he blew out as though he had another lit cigarette between his lips. ‘Not really. I’m just one of the team, that’s all. And, let’s face it, I could be standing beside Geth with my dick out and no-one would notice.’
‘ I would,’ Felix said gamely. ‘I’d be looking.’
‘Cheers. I think.’
‘What have you got against Gethryn?’ My anger was rising at his cavalier way of dispatching a man who had been flirting so ego-boostingly with me.
Jack fixed me with a suddenly very serious brown-eyed gaze. ‘Skye. I wouldn’t hold anything against Gethryn Tudor-Morgan that wasn’t made of asbestos, and even then it would have to be reinforced.’ I watched his eyes move, taking in my scar. ‘But you’re right. I’d better go. Someone who knows what’s going on should be there with him.’ And he was gone, slipping his shadowy body up the three shallow steps and back inside, where the crowd moved to allow him entrance.
I twitched to follow, but Felix pulled me back.
‘Come on. I want to know where you vanished to. I’d just got across to Mr Jared White in there, who, I might add has the scrummiest set of abs under that get-up and he needn’t try to pretend otherwise, and when I turned round, you’d gone.’
‘I had a bit of a panic, went outside and Gethryn and I got talking. That’s all, nothing scandalous.’ We started walking. Dusk was gathering overhead and the cicadas’ thrumming noise was all around us like tiny razors being stropped. ‘Jack came and interrupted before it got interesting.’
Felix looked up, checking our position. We were out of sight of the diner now, heading around the motel towards the main doors? . . . ‘So, was Gethryn chatting you up? Go on, lover, tell me everything.’
I recounted as much of the conversation as I thought repeatable. I wanted to hold some of the words secret, not spread them out and make them public property but keep them only for myself, to take out and think over when I was alone. And besides, what really remained of the conversation boiled down to the memory of Gethryn’s studied stubble and his hair moving in the breeze; the feel of his fingers holding my hand and those leonine eyes watching my soul.
‘Darling, I’m surprised your underwear hasn’t spontaneously combusted — do you know how many women here would pay any money to have Gethryn Tudor-Morgan get them alone? And a fair few men as well; at least, I’m hoping.’
‘It was? . . . nice, yes.’
‘ Nice? How long have you been lusting after that man? A year-and-a-half? Two series’ worth of Fallen Skies ; what, nearly fifty episodes? I seriously fear for your attitude sometimes, Skye. Next time he chats you up — and yes, I am certain there will be a next time — then you just follow along anywhere he wants to lead, tout de suite and I shan’t have a glass to the wall, all right?’
I gave a kind of sideways nod which could have meant anything, but Felix took it as agreement. He always thought I agreed with him. We stood in the softly encroaching dark for a while, Felix leaning against the wall of the motel while I crossed my arms over my chest.
‘You thinking about the accident?’ Felix’s voice was surprisingly gentle. ‘Your fingers.’
I tucked my hands into the pockets of my jeans. ‘Faith, actually.’ Felix gave an almost inaudible sigh. ‘She wanted to go to America, didn’t she?’
‘Yeah.’ He bent to examine the toe of his shoe. ‘Never got the chance.’
‘I miss her.’ Inside my pockets my thumbs were running along the fingertip scars, tracing them. Inside my head the colours of the accident raged, the blue flames, the red-hot metal. Not memories, something older, harder and more primitive.
‘You and me both, babe. You and me both.’
Another silence. A loved-up couple who’d been strolling around outside under the almost unnaturally clear desert sky came towards us, hand in hand. As they passed, I saw the girl’s eyes, dark in the moonlight, flick to my face and I felt the almost pre-emptive embarrassment rise into my throat. ‘I think? . . . Can we go up to the room now?’
‘Sure.’ But Fe didn’t move; he seemed lost inside his thoughts, scuffing his feet in the dust. I felt a little burst of fondness for him, he looked so young with his tousled hair and his face all scrunched up. So unaware of how people looked at me, and, by extension, him.
‘I am glad we came, Fe.’
Then his head came up and that choirboy smile folded his cheeks. ‘That’s really good, Skye. I mean, this whole thing, it’s been good for you, yeah? Even if you never get inside the supremely tight pants of the T-M, you’re having a great time, aren’t you? And then there’s our Jack—’
‘He’s weird.’
‘Whatever. Just you remember, darling, who saw him first.’ Felix pushed himself away from the wall. ‘C’mon.’
But the motel had erupted into noise and light. With the coming dark, even those not attending Gethryn’s little address-the-masses moment had crowded inside and I could hear the voices bursting through every wall. ‘I think I might just stay out here for a bit longer, actually. If that’s okay.’
He nodded. ‘The T-M isn’t likely to strike twice in one night, though, lover.’
‘I’m just enjoying the peace and quiet.’
‘Two shakes then.’ He leapt inside and was back in a couple of minutes with a large glass of something amber. ‘Here. Drink that down and you’ll be fit for an early night.’
I sniffed it. ‘Wow. Smells like paint stripper.’
‘That, darling, is a Broken Hill Special.’
‘Smells like it. Broken something, anyway.’ I sniffed again. ‘Intestines, possibly.’
‘Chug-a-lug, there’s a good girl.’
I took a cautious first sip. The warmth rode down my throat like a roping cowboy, captured my tonsils and begged for backup. ‘It’s not bad. It’s a bit like? . . . tequila?’
‘Mm, mostly tequila.’ Felix watched me drain the glass, then took the empty and sat next to me on the edge of the little raised wall that circled the entire motel, as though it marked some kind of border. ‘Ever thought about moving out here? To the States?’
‘No.’
‘You could sell the house, make enough to move. Might do you good. I’m sure you talked about moving to the States, you know.’
I frowned. Trying to find the memories was like staring into a black maelstrom and made my forehead ache. ‘Did I?’
‘That’s what you told me.’
I shook my head. ‘I wish I could remember. Sometimes I feel like one of those pod aliens — everything you tell me about the past sounds so weird and so unlike me, as though I was someone different before. Like I’m a new soul in a body you think you know.’
Felix shrugged an elegant shoulder and stared off into the desert. There was an expression on his face that was close to pain and I touched his hand. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to remind you of? . . . back then. It makes me feel so strange when I think that there’s a life that we had that I can’t remember, stuff that we did, stuff I can’t share in any more. I mean, I can do that whole “remember that time?” thing, but only up to a certain point, and that makes me feel stupid. Like I’m not really trying. I know I can’t help it, but I am sorry, all the same.’
He turned, his expression too complicated to read. ‘I guess you are,’ he said, his eyes tracing the outline of my scar. ‘Right. Feeling better now?’
I wanted to say that I hadn’t been feeling bad to start with, but, although my eyebrows seemed to be fully functioning, the rest of my face had been hit with a kind of palsy which made my lips go numb and my nose start to run. ‘’S a bit? . . . bloopy.’ The desert began to melt and I stood up, panicked.
‘Bloopy?’
‘Y’know, when you’re all kind of? . . . woooo.’ I took a step forward and the ground spiralled.
‘Whoops, here we go.’ Felix caught hold of me and pulled me against him. ‘That was quick.’
‘What’s happening?’ I had to force the words out past an unco-operative tongue which felt like a lump of Spam squatting in my mouth. ‘Oh. Tired now.’
‘Okay.’ With one arm wrapped around my waist, Felix began towing me towards the motel entrance. ‘You’ll be fine by the morning. It’s only half a tablet, just to make sure you get a good night’s sleep.’
His words floated into my brain, almost without meaning. ‘A wha’?’ I asked drowsily.
‘Sleepers.’ Felix spoke into my ear. ‘I brought them just in case. You’ll be fine,’ he repeated. ‘Wouldn’t give you anything that would do you any harm, even with alcohol. Some of us know what we’re doing, drugwise.’
‘Skye?’ Another voice, sounding annoyed. ‘What’s up now?’
‘It’s all right.’ Felix changed his hold on me but I felt another hand move my hair away from my face. ‘She’s just off to bed.’
‘Skye?’ It was Jack. I knew he was talking to me but I couldn’t raise the energy to answer. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Bed,’ I echoed Fe sleepily.
Jack’s face came into sudden focus; he must have crouched down in front of me. ‘I’d have to know you a lot better first,’ he said, quietly and, despite the alcohol and sleeping tablet, I felt a little shiver kick at my stomach. ‘I’ll probably see you in the morning, before it all starts off. If you need anything, you know where I am.’
‘What time do we have to be there?’ Felix tightened his grip on my waist. It almost hurt.
‘If you’d been in the diner, you’d have heard.’ Jack sounded sharp.
‘Skye needed some fresh air.’
‘Mmm.’ Not altogether accepting. ‘Starts at eleven. Entrants need to be seated by half-ten, so they can be checked over for any cheat sheets.’ A cool hand on my forehead. ‘Why? Are you entering?’
‘Skye is.’
I’m what? I thought, but nothing inside me would respond. Not curiosity, not nerves, nothing. It was worse than Valium, at least that just deadened the world. Whatever Felix had given me had killed it.
‘Better get her to bed then.’
‘Off now.’ Then, cheekily, ‘Don’t suppose you want to join us?’
A half-laugh, fading into the night. ‘Wrong guy.’
I think I might have passed out, because the next thing I knew was Felix rolling me up in the duvet and switching out the light. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘Bu’? . . .’ I managed to get one eye open. ‘Where? . . . ?’
Silhouetted in the doorway, Felix grinned. ‘You’ll sleep ’til morning, don’t worry. And while you are sleeping, Mr White is, shall we say, going to be gaining a certain grubbiness.’