Dream Paris (3 page)

“What happened to your eyes?” asked Petrina.

His beautiful long lashes flickered a little as he half blinked. His eyelids couldn’t cover those large jewelled eyes that bulged like a fly’s. I’d seen people like him before, back in Dream London.

“Something I ate, I think. I’d rather hoped that they would return to normal with time, but some changes appear to be permanent. I can see shapes and nothing more. I can’t read, I can’t recognise faces. All I can see are blocks of light and dark. You don’t mind me staying?”

The last sentence was directed at me. I did mind him staying, but I wanted to demonstrate to Petrina that I decided who was welcome in my house.

“You may stay. Would you like to sit down?”

“If you would be so good as to take my arm? As I said, I find it difficult to distinguish objects.”

I led him to a seat at the breakfast counter.

“There’s a stool just in front of your hand,” called Petrina. I guess she’d worked with blind people in the past.

He felt its shape with one manicured hand, he used the other to find the counter surface and then he sat down. Just for a moment, those fly eyes seemed to settle on me, to look directly at me.

Petrina seemed to have regained some of her professional composure.

“This is what I mean, Anna. You have people just walking in your house. Can I ask who you are, Mister…?”

“Twelvetrees. Adolphus Twelvetrees.” He produced a card from a pocket and laid it on the counter. I caught the little portcullis logo, read the words
Her Majesty’s Government
. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Ms Kent, I have some business to discuss with Anna.”

“I’m sorry, Mr Twelvetrees, but I can’t allow that. This young woman is currently under my care.”

“I’m sorry, Ms Kent, but you don’t really have much of a part left to play in things.”

He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a large brass pocket watch. I noticed the bumps on the surface, watched the way Mr Twelvetrees felt the face. “Ms Kent, it is currently 4:50. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but in thirty-five minutes’ time, you’ll be dead.”

Something clicked inside me, and for a moment I was back in Dream London. Back in the world where such pronouncements were commonplace. Petrina seemed more irritated than upset. She’d not experienced the Dream World. Her voice was perfectly level.

“Are you threatening me, Mr Twelvetrees?”

“Merely stating a fact, Ms Kent.” He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a cream scroll tied with red ribbon. I gasped, despite myself.

“What?” said Petrina.

“That’s a fortune scroll,” I said. I felt sick inside. I didn’t like what was coming.

“It’s your fortune, Anna. That’s why I’m here.”

“I don’t want to see it.”

“A fortune scroll?” scoffed Petrina. “There’s no such thing.”

“There was in Dream London.” My voice sounded flat. “But surely they don’t work anymore…” I forced myself to speak firmly. “Take it away.”

“That’s your choice, of course.”

“You mean you really believe in that thing?” asked Petrina.

“A fortune is a fortune,” said Mr Twelvetrees. “Though it’s true that the scroll’s power is not what it was. This fortune will state where Anna will be at one particular point in time or it will describe her emotions and movement at some unspecified moment. It will never do both. Miss Kent, please note the first and fifth items on the list. You may find them distressing.”

He unrolled the scroll a little.

“Or so I’m told,” he said. “As I said, I can’t read anything anymore.”

Petrina took the scroll from Mr Twelvetrees and read out loud.

“
Anna and Mr Twelvetrees sit in the kitchen of the Poison Yews, London Temporary Zone Code B54 F11, on Thursday 11th January at 5:25pm.
”

“You shouldn’t have touched it, Petrina,” I said.

“Why? A stranger walks into the kitchen with a piece of paper and you just accept what he says without any… oh…”

“What’s the matter?”

It took Petrina a moment to find her voice. When she did, it sounded strained.

“It says here that
Anna looks on in horror as Petrina dies.
” She ran her finger down the scroll, she licked her lips. “It doesn’t say when, though.”

“It won’t,” said Mr Twelvetrees. “The fortune gives positions or emotions. Never both at the same time.”

“Then how do you know that I’ll die by 5:25?”

“Because you’re not present in this room at that time.”

“But I might have left the room at that moment! I could have left the house!”

“What, and left Anna alone with me? Does that sound likely?”

Petrina clutched her bag close to herself.

“No! I don’t know what sort of game you’re playing, Mr Twelvetrees…”

“This isn’t a game, Miss Kent. This is simply how it will be. Anna, I’m distressed to say, is fated to see you die. And, sadly, this will happen in the next thirty minutes or so.”

It didn’t sound as if he thought this was a sad thing. Something in his tone suggested that he was taking pleasure in her discomfort.

“No! I’m not having this!” Petrina rolled up the scroll, pushed it towards him. “I don’t know who you are, Mr Twelvetrees, but I want you out of here. I don’t want you anywhere near my client!”

“That’s as may be. But I’ll still be here at 5:25. You won’t.”

That air again. That charming bastard air. There were boys like him at school: good-looking, intelligent, arrogant. They knew what they wanted and they just took it. But with Mr Twelvetrees there was something else, too. A touch of cruelty…

“Where did this scroll come from?” I asked. “Why do you have it?”

Mr Twelvetrees’s fly eyes were disconcerting. You couldn’t tell which way he was looking. So what if he couldn’t see; you didn’t know where his attention was fixed. His reply seemed to be directed at the corner of the kitchen.

“The scroll was found in the ruins of Angel Tower. Someone noticed my name was written on it and they passed it along to me. And here I am, just as it says.”

Petrina licked her lips.

“That doesn’t prove anything. You read Anna’s name, you turned up here.”

“True, true.”

“So you came here because the scroll said so?” I interrupted. “I find that hard to believe. There must be so much junk blowing around London. Lots of scrolls, lots of people’s names. Why come to me?”

“Look at the scroll Anna. You’ll see why I came to you.”

“Leave it alone, Anna,” warned Petrina. I couldn’t help myself. I took it, unrolled it.

“The bottom’s torn off.”

“I know. That’s how we found it. Don’t procrastinate. What does it say?”

I took a deep breath. I looked at the scroll.

Anna and Mr Twelvetrees sit in the kitchen of the Poison Yews, London Temporary Zone Code B54 F11, on Thursday 11th January at 5:25pm.

Walking towards the ruined castle on the hill, furious at your companion

Anna moves through the crowd, terrified. What if they were to recognise her for who she was?

“Recognise me for who I am? What does that mean? When does this happen?”

“Who knows? I told you, you can know when, or what. That’s the nature of this fortune. Read on.”

“
He is so gorgeous! He strokes your breast as he…
”

I broke off as I realised what I was saying. I felt the blush spring to my face. Mr Twelvetrees’s mouth had curled a little at the corners. He’d tricked me. The bastard had tricked me into reading it out loud.

“What does it say?” asked Petrina. Even amidst the strangeness, I could see her eyes dancing once more at the thought of teenage sex.

“I’m not saying.”

He is so gorgeous! He strokes your breast as he thrusts into you. You are coming, again and again.

I had the distinct impression that Mr Twelvetrees was looking at me. He knew what was on the scroll, he knew what I was reading. He knew!

“What does it say?” asked Petrina.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll go on.”

Such was my distress that I read the next line before I registered the words.

“
Anna looks on in horror as Petrina dies.
”

Petrina said nothing. Mr Twelvetrees was smiling properly now. I scanned the next line before reading it aloud.

“
Nivôse 22nd. You are sitting in the
Café de la Révolution
.
”

“Nivôse?” I said. “What’s that?”

“Ah, yes,” said Mr Twelvetrees. “The benefits of a private education. That comes from the French revolutionary calendar. It’s the month of December or January.”

“The French revolutionary calendar? Why should it give dates according to the French…”

But I’d already read the next line.

“
Anna sits down to a meal in Dream Paris.
”

Dream Paris.

It was important not to show any emotion. But I felt hollow, like if you blew across my lips I would sound a note, deep and low.

“It says here I’m in Dream Paris. I… I don’t want to do that.”

I was struggling to speak. Were you in Dream London? If so, you’ll understand what I was feeling. How would you feel if you were told you had to return to that place?

“I’m sorry,” said Mr Twelvetrees. He didn’t sound sorry. “But I’m not sure that you have a choice.”

“Of course she does,” snapped Petrina. Good for her. “She’s not going to this Dream Paris place.”

But I was. I’d just read the last line.

Nivôse 23rd, Dream Paris. Anna is arguing with Margaret Sinfield.

Margaret Sinfield. That was my mother, last seen being taken off to the workhouse. I’d spent the last few months wondering if she was alive or dead. Now I knew the answer. She was alive. She was alive in Dream Paris.

Petrina and Mr Twelvetrees were arguing, their words reverberating in the hollowness inside me. I was terrified, but I knew then that I was going to Dream Paris. Of course I was. My mother was there.

DREAM PARIS

M
R
T
WELVETREES FLICKED
open his brass watch and felt the dial. I read the hands. It was 5:10.

“Less than fifteen minutes, Ms Kent.”

I was becoming more impressed by Petrina. She was obviously frightened, but she was keeping it together. Perhaps I had been too harsh on her earlier. She may have dressed like a girl, but here, when it counted, she was acting like a professional. I sometimes think that’s the difference between adults and children. Adults are better at acting.

Petrina was firm. “I don’t know what sick game you’re playing, Mr Twelvetrees, but I’m not leaving you alone here with Anna. The poor girl is terrified.”

“She’s not a girl, she’s a young woman. And I’m not playing games. I’m merely showing her what’s written on a piece of paper.”

Nonsense! He was showing me my fortune. He’d been in Dream London. He knew what that meant. Even Petrina had some idea, now. She was licking her lips, eyes flicking this way and that, no doubt looking for the thing that was coming to kill her.

What if it were already in the house?

“Stay here,” I said.

I hurried from the kitchen. The front door was closed, no doubt pulled to by Mr Twelvetrees’ chauffeur. I ran upstairs and did a quick check of the rooms, looking under the beds (there were bells under them, silver bells that would tinkle if anything moved), opening cupboards (the smell of dried flowers still lingered), peered around the corners into the corridors that led nowhere (mouse traps and caltrops left scattered on the floor). Nothing. There was nothing in the house that I could see that should present any danger to Petrina.

I returned to the kitchen, the sound of a trumpet fanfare in my head.

“Run, Petrina,” I said. “Get out of here.”

“Not without you, Anna. I can’t leave you alone here with this man!”

Of course she couldn’t. She was doing her job. My admiration for her increased still further.

“Then let’s go now,” I said. “Both of us.”

“That won’t make any difference,” said Mr Twelvetrees. “You’ll still be back here at 5:25.”

He was right, of course. I picked up the scroll again, ran my finger down the fortune.

“It doesn’t mention my father. Does that mean he’s dead?”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” said Petrina. “A stranger walks into your house and shows you a piece of paper. That doesn’t mean anything, Anna.”

“You don’t understand, Petrina, I’ve seen these scrolls before. If one says my mother is in Dream Paris, then I’m going to go to Dream Paris. How could I not do so? She might be trapped there!”

“
If
it’s a genuine fortune scroll. And even if your mother
is
trapped in Dream Paris, it’s not your responsibility to sort out her problems.”

Did she think I hadn’t heard that a hundred times before? That’s the worst thing about people like Petrina. They come out with the same old platitudes and they think they’re saying something profound. It annoys me so much! And yet, I couldn’t be too annoyed with her. If the scroll was true, Petrina had around ten minutes to live…

As if on cue, Mr Twelvetrees spoke up.

“5:15. Ten more minutes to go!”

“Stop that, Mr Twelvetrees!” snapped Petrina. “You don’t frighten me with your piece of paper.” Her voice suggested otherwise.