Angel's Fury (3 page)

The Lady stood in the single shaft of light that broke through the clouds. Her dress was immortalised in the moment of falling from her shoulder and her arms were packed with bronzed hops. She hadn’t changed since Zillah had seen her for the last time. My breath caught.

What’s happening to me?

Nicola shouldered me aside to see the view for herself and my knees collapsed as soon as my legs hit the bed.

‘The storm’s starting,’ she said.

Not wanting to speak to her I fumbled in my bag for my earphones and managed to shove them in place just as the first flurry of rain battered the window.

We had the afternoon free, but as no one wanted to brave the downpour we were allowed to stay inside until it cleared. At four the sky turned a stunning cobalt blue and the clouds vanished, leaving only slicks of glistening puddles behind them.

We gathered in front of the building.

‘Here are your maps. Don’t forget to be polite and respectful to the locals. If I receive any complaints the offender will be sent home on the next plane.’ Miss Barnes handed out information packs. ‘German class: please practise your phrases as much as possible. Nicola, that means you, pay attention please. History class: see which of these monuments you can find. Everyone back here at five thirty.’

Nicola immediately rushed off with her friends and I shoved the bundle of paper into my back pocket without looking at it. I knew where I wanted to go: I had to see the fountain up close.

Soon I realised I wasn’t the only one heading to the square. When I saw that most of the class were following I stomped angrily on the cobbled road.

‘Out the way, loser.’

‘Shove it, Sticky. Why don’t you go somewhere else?’

He elbowed me off the pavement so he could hold hands with Caroline. ‘There’s a sweet shop down here, freak-face, we’re all going in, so why don’t you go and find a cemetery to lurk in.’

Gutter water seeped into my trainers and my mouth filled with the taste of the sausage I’d eaten at lunchtime.

Could the same shop still be there?

I broke into a run and overtook the others. I had to find out. The square opened in front of me and there it all was: the fountain with its stone seat, the clock tower . . . and the sweet shop. Some things had changed enough that the dream image was no longer quite accurate, but it was clearly the same place.

The shop sign was now faded and cracked across the middle and the window was jammed with jars of boiled sweets, jelly shapes, pyramids of homemade chocolates, wooden figures, steins and pictures of local landmarks – very different from the rainbow of orderly glass jars that Zillah had known.

A rusting bell dangled from a spring above the door and it rang irritably again and again as my classmates disappeared inside. I watched, stunned, then lurched across the
Platz
like a zombie.

When my knees bumped the fountain I looked into the Lady’s heavy-lidded eyes and goosebumps stippled my forearms. A few hours ago she had watched me . . . no – Zillah . . . climb into the truck for her final journey.

This close I could see that, like the sign above the sweet shop,
she had in fact aged. Her face was weather-worn and one of her arms was damaged. The remains of dark orange graffiti were daubed on her stone seat and deeply etched declarations of love, irremovable and aged with green moss, decorated the rim like clumsy filigree. The air rushed out of me and I slumped down without a care for the hearts and arrows beneath my legs.

Splashes of water cooled the scratches on my thigh and I reached a trembling finger to touch the Lady’s toe, half convinced she had to be an illusion. My fingertip met solid rock.

I snatched my hand back and cradled it. Then I waited for the shop to empty.

By the time the bulk of my classmates had left the square the vile flavour of almost-sick had faded from my tongue.

Around me curtains began to twitch and, like villagers shocked to have survived an invasion, the Germans cracked open windows and emerged from their bolt-holes. Female tones launched into full gossip mode and I hunched my shoulders, feeling like a foreigner for the first time.

I scuttled to the shop and stopped as the door burst open.

Sticky and Caroline cannoned on to the pavement, giggling.
One of his hands was on the back of her shirt and the other was inside his jacket pulling out a Snickers bar.

‘Sticky, you’re so
bad
.’ Caroline extended the last word, rolling it round her mouth like a chocolate.

My eyes widened. ‘Did you steal that?’

Sticky glowered. ‘Tell everyone, why don’t you, Vampira.’ He handed the chocolate to his girlfriend. ‘Here, babe, for you.’

‘You’re pathetic,’ I snapped, but I was forced to step sideways to let them past.

‘Whatever, anorexia girl, don’t know why you’re going in there – it’s obvious you don’t eat anything.’ Caroline tossed her shiny mane and pouted at my legs. ‘C’mon, Sticky, let’s go to the river.’ They bundled past and knocked me into the windowsill.

My lip curled as I watched them go, then my gaze fell on a set of initials carved into a niche beneath my wrist and I instantly forgot all about them. I brushed the stone with a frown. The letters were well worn, but I could make them out: K. F.

My lip trembled. The graffiti on the fountain hadn’t affected me, but these initials felt important somehow.

I need to know why I’m dreaming about a place I’ve never seen.

Filled with determination I opened the door and the bell rattled as I stepped across the threshold.

Before I had a chance to take in the crowded shelves, a tiny brunette popped up from behind the counter. ‘
Guten Tag. Kann ich dir helfen?
’

I dredged my memory to come up with a polite response. ‘
Danke schön, schaue mich nur um.
’ I am just looking. I had to apologise for my stilted German. ‘
Es tut mir leid. Ich bin Engländerin
.’

‘
Ach du kommst aus England
. Your German is very good; you have a lovely accent. Very local. You have been listening well to us speak, yes? Welcome to my shop. Tell me if you need anything.’

I stared blindly at the sweets laid out on the counter, unable to even consider the taste of sugar on top of my sour stomach.

Then my eyes lifted from a jar of bright candy letters to a faded black-and-white picture that hung above the counter.

In the portrait the sweet shop sign was new and the blonde woman I had seen in my dream was standing on the front step. Her face was drawn into a tight smile and her hands were clenched on a jar of sweets as if she was afraid someone would take them from her.

‘W-who’s that?’

The shopkeeper appeared by my elbow and a blast of Fisherman’s Friends scalded my cheek as she breathed over me. ‘It is my great-aunt Karla – this was her shop. She lives upstairs now and she still keeps safe the best recipe for the truffles.’

‘Your . . . great-aunt Karla?’

‘Yes. This was taken just before the war. How pretty she is, yes?’

I nodded, still staring at her blonde curls. ‘K. F.? Is that her?’

Karla’s niece snorted and gestured outside. ‘Ha,
nein
. You mean the –’ she paused, seeking the right word – ‘graffiti on the wall outside? Yes?’

I nodded.

‘My great-aunt is Karla Ehrlichmann. K. E., see? We’d have removed the letters, but the poor boy who made them, he died. I think his name was Kurt Faber. Aunt Karla had an –’ she paused again and waved her fingers – ‘affection for him.
Gummibären
?’

I had to grip the counter for support. ‘What?’

‘Gummi bears? Good,
ja
?’

I nodded and realised that she thought I’d been staring at a jar of the jewel-coloured jellies. ‘Sure . . . thanks.’

The shopkeeper filled a white paper bag for me. ‘I am Astrid,’
she said suddenly. ‘Astrid Kaufman.’ She handed me the sweets. ‘I hope you enjoy your stay in Hopfingen. One euro exactly, please.’

I fumbled in my wallet for the money then paused and reached for a second coin. ‘My friend out there realised that he forgot to pay for something.’

Astrid looked at me steadily for a moment then took both euros. Soft fingers wrapped round my wrist and she reached under the counter. ‘Here. For you.’

Three expensive handmade chocolates were placed into my palm.

‘Don’t tell your friends.’ She winked and I looked at the chocolates. Each had a yellow star iced on top.

‘
Danke schön
. Really.’ I backed out of the shop, clutching the sweets.

I stood in the square beneath the Lady, chocolate melting in my hand.

I had no answers after all, only more questions. I thought of the faceless boy who had carved his initials beneath the sweet-shop window. He and Karla had been in love, at least I figured that was what Astrid had meant by
an affection
.

My gaze was drawn to the first floor of the sweet shop where a blue curtain flapped in the breeze. I knew there was an old woman in there, but in my mind’s eye she was a young blonde, grieving for the loss of her lover. Had she traced his initials with her fingertips every time she left the building, trying to feel closer to him?

I couldn’t help wondering about the boy too. Kurt Faber.

Sudden cold made me shiver and I crossed my arms over my chest.

T
he lights went out and Nicola was nowhere to be seen.

She’s sleeping with her friends after all.

Relieved, I wilted against the bathroom sink. Tiredness made me ache all over, as if I had the flu, yet I was reluctant to lie down, dreading what I’d see when I closed my eyes.

Would it be Zillah’s death again? The new dream set in the square? Or maybe something worse?

The new unpredictability of my nightmares terrified me. Now I had no way of preparing myself for what I would see.

Abruptly voices came from the stairs. ‘Nicola, don’t argue. Go to your own room. You can’t sleep on the floor.’

I threw down my toothbrush, ran and dived under my duvet.

Just as the clock in the square was struggling to strike Nicola stomped into our room and tossed her wash bag on the night-stand. ‘You did this, didn’t you, freak? You told on me.’

Miss Barnes’s voice came from the doorway. ‘I’m sure I can work out what a lump on the floor means, Nicola, especially when
you’re whispering with your friends so loudly. Leave Cassie alone please. She’s sleeping.’

I heard Nicola climb into bed and thump the pillow. She humphed a few times, as if wanting attention or an apology. I clenched my teeth; she’d get neither from me. After a few moments Miss Barnes sighed. ‘I’ll be patrolling the corridors tonight, Nicola, understand? Any more silliness and I’ll be calling your mother.’ She pulled the door closed behind her and I felt the force of Nicola’s glare through my duvet.

Eventually she spoke. ‘Are you awake?’

I made no reply, only clenched my fists under my chin. My whole body was wound tight as a spring, and I waited in silence until her breathing deepened.

Bile rose in my throat, pushed there by a spurt of jealousy that twisted my gut into knots.

How come Nicola Watson gets to sleep so easily while I get to relive Zillah’s death night after night?

I glared into the darkness as I listened to her snore, too afraid to close my eyes.

Finally I tiptoed to the window. The cold air behind the curtain revived me, so I sat on the bench under the sill and
pressed my cheek against the glass.

The stars shimmered through a web of cloud and my eye was drawn to Orion’s Belt. It shone like a diamond bracelet, bright as I had ever seen, and my shoulders started to relax as I began the search for my very own constellation. When I found Cassiopeia glowing in its familiar place I inhaled. Across from the Plough, the crown seemed to pulse in the night sky, almost equal in brightness to Orion.

My breath fogged the window and I watched the stars glow until my sight blurred.

The teachers hadn’t let me have coffee this evening so there was no caffeine in my system. My body needed oblivion and I had no way of fighting it. Slumber dragged me under like a current.

The polish on my jackboots cracks as I crouch beneath the window. It took me an hour this morning to bring up the shine, but I don’t care.

My fingers rest lightly on the brick and I feel dizzy as my nose fills with the scent of sweets I cannot afford. I lean my forehead on my arm and listen to Karla humming as she works. This close, I imagine that I can smell her. Her scent always reminds me of candied almonds, as if she herself has a sugar coating.

Pressing my palm to the windowsill I think about last night and need her to know that I am close by. More, I want her to think of me every time she opens her door. A piece of slate grinds under my heel. I pick it up and start to dig into the wall beneath the sill. I will create a sign just for her.

As I finish the first letter of my name I hear the distinctive snap of a female voice and spin round, still crouching. The Jewish singing teacher is herding a group of her students across the square.

She casts a stern look in my direction and I clutch the stone tighter.

Finally the Jewess and her flock disappear round the corner. After a moment I frown at my wrist. Blood is dripping into my shirt sleeve. Painfully I open my fingers and release the stone. It thuds back to the ground.

I jerked awake and cracked my head on the windowpane. Shock made me cry out and I fell off the bench.

Nicola stirred and I swore under my breath as I stumbled back to bed.

Where were these new dreams coming from? Tears streamed down my face as I looked back at the window. I’d left the curtain
hanging open and Orion blazed in the centre of the gap. I watched the sky until dawn gilded the ceiling and tried not to dwell on the fact that I might be losing my mind.

‘Bayreuth today.’

‘Um, yeah.’ I frowned and pulled my jumper over my head.