Chapter 35
Jack
For the past week, apart from my trips to Levin, I’ve been here in Maggie’s bed, more than I’ve been at work.
We’ve finished The Great Gatsby, and have made our way through half of The Water on Horseback, both of us convinced that Clarissa is indeed our Riz.
I’ve also been forced to watch not one but three of the Twilight franchise; the less said about that the better.
‘That’s it for now,’ she says.
‘What? You can’t finish mid-chapter!’ I snatch the book from her, my eyes scanning the page. I wince as I focus on a word:
‘Ugh. Levin and his methods,’ I say trying to shake the noise from my ears. ‘I had to ring a hand bell each time the flashcard read “th”,’ I explain.
‘Ooh fun.’
‘Hardly, I’m dreading that sound becoming a permanent part of my reading experience. Just read until the end. Look…’ I flick the pages. ‘It’s only a few more pages.’
‘Sorry, but no deal. You’ll have to wait. I need to have a shower before we go…’ She takes in my expression, her own slightly amused. ‘It’s really bothering you, isn’t it? Why can’t we finish mid-chapter?’
‘Because!’
She takes the book back. Her finger automatically moves to fold the corner of the page, but I steal the book from her hands, sliding in the Chadwick’s bookmark I’d bought over between the pages.
She shakes her head. ‘You’re such a book nerd.’ She laughs, pulling my shirt over her head as I lay the book back down on the bedside table.
‘You know, I could tell them I’m sick?’ I start fake coughing as she throws her pillow at me.
‘No way, and have them already think I’m stealing away their little prince. Not on your nelly, Jack Chadwick.’ But she settles back down lying on her side, facing me.
‘I wouldn’t worry. I lived like a hermit for the past year. I doubt anyone has noticed you’ve been holding me captive.’
‘Excuse me, I’ve been going to work and on far less sleep than usual,’ she challenges.
She leans over, lips a fraction away before I nod. We’ve found a rhythm to our consent, tiny pauses, one leaning in after the other makes the first move. It’s becoming second nature. Her lips brush mine and she pulls back, lying down and tucking her hands under her cheek.
‘So what’s next? Painting your body blue and climbing a giant letter Y?’
‘Who knows?’ I brush her hair back. ‘He agrees that if I could remember more, it might open up something. I still get that headache occasionally.’
‘Shall we try again?’
I take a breath. We’ve tried this a few times over the last week. There are little details coming more and more into focus. It’s not my favourite thing to do in Maggie’s bed, but still, I nod.
She shifts, moving down the bed and I laugh, peering down. ‘I won’t be able to concentrate if you move any lower.’
‘Behave. I’m going to lie on your chest. Ready?’
‘As I’ll ever be.’
She rests her head against me. ‘Start with leaving the pub again.’
Just like last time, I focus on everything I can remember until I’m hit by a sense of something being off. The shadow across the road moves. I hear – not my own thoughts exactly – but a feeling of something definitely not being right.
But this part is new.
Footsteps. Slow, steady, the sounds of boots against tarmac. Mine? The shadow? Buildings move, roads sweep forwards and retract, curve then rise and fall. Then I see a flash of long red hair against the blacks and greys of the shadows. My voice rings out, ‘Excuse me?’
The strike comes from behind me. The pain of impact so real that I gasp. Maggie instantly pulls away, her worried face leaning over as her room comes back into view.
‘Are you OK?’ she asks, concerned. ‘Jack?’
I’m hot, the blood rushing around my body.
‘I… I think so.’
‘Let me get you a glass of water.’ She hurries from the room, returning with a glass, which I drain. The images start to push and shove against each other. Maggie sits next to me, face etched with worry.
‘I think something was going to happen to her.’
‘To the redhead?’
‘I think so.’
‘We should go to the police.’
I’m hesitant, but I remember so much more now. ‘Agreed.’
Who is she?
I need to find out who she is.
And if anything happened to her.