Chapter 77
Away
Outside the window their unlived life continued to speed by. Wilbur in his office, working. At an airport, staring up at a board. In a hotel in Edinburgh, ignoring a view of the castle as he scribbled business plans on a sheet of paper.
The Dreamer was trying not to think too deeply about his possible death at the end of the journey, so he focused hard on what he was seeing.
‘I don’t understand …’ said the Dreamer. ‘Why am I seeing myself on my own all the time?’
Agnes was reading her book. ‘Oh, I think that’s a question for your ghost. He has lived all this, after all.’
The Ghost considered. ‘Because your work takes you away. I suppose, now I think about it, that was the whole point. Look, there we are in Edinburgh, at the first Scottish branch. And there on Concorde to New York …’
Days went by. Weeks. Months. Years. Faster and faster.
Brief flashes of Maggie, but otherwise just prolonged stretches of offices and hotels.
Never a sight of his mother, or Alfred, or any friends except Charlie, but only ever in the office.
No cemetery visits any more. No reading anything but business reports and papers now.
The dullest and most repetitive landscape of the whole journey was passing the windows.
But then the sight of Wilbur on the phone, crying, as he heard his mother had been rushed to hospital.
The train slowed.
The view became darkness.
‘What is happening?’ wondered the Dreamer.
‘The future,’ said Agnes. ‘The past. Both at once.’
The Ghost nodded mournfully. ‘And I’m afraid it’s going to get worse.’