Dreams of Origami (24 page)

‘In that case, a simple statement from both of you will be enough to wrap the whole thing up.’

‘Whew,’ says Drew after the detective has left. ‘Talk about clash of the Titans. I’m not sure who was the winner there.’

‘Me, my love.’ Lacey smiles sweetly. ‘Be assured, it was me. Anyway, I’d better sort out some gear for Gideon’s lady friend. Just as well I brought some spare clothes with me.’

Meanwhile, breakfast is also underway next door. Cassandra is wrapped in Gideon’s dressing gown and is sitting in the one chair, with Gideon on the floor at her feet, buttering toast and pouring yet more tea. He decides he has waited long enough.

‘OK, I think it’s time you told me what the hell’s going on.’

‘Yes, you’re right, Gideon. But where to begin? Ask me some questions.’

He takes a deep breath. ‘Well, for a start: who are you and how did you get here? And what’s happening to Gainsborough Street?’

‘That’s a lot to explain all at once. Let’s deal with the first question. Who am I? Gideon, even with all your knowledge, you are going to find this difficult. Many times you have asked your students and readers to suspend their disbelief. Now I’m asking you to do the same. Be patient and listen carefully.

‘As you know, the search for knowledge is not consistent. The Aztecs were highly advanced in their use of mathematics and astrology, yet failed to grasp the seemingly obvious possibilities of the wheel. The ancient Roman civilization reached the same level of technology as early nineteenth-century Britain. In some areas, they were even more advanced. So imagine if they had developed the use of steam power. Look how swiftly your scientists have developed the properties of silicone. Yet, until recently, they completely overlooked even the very basic abilities of the human mind.’

‘You once said that if we understood what our minds were capable of we wouldn’t have invented the wheel.’

‘And there is much truth in that. There are reasons why different civilizations develop along different paths. However, in the future—or at least in one version of the future—your people will also learn to travel through space and time without the use of machines.’

‘Time travel? Are you saying you’re from the future?’

‘I’m from…another place. It is in a different time stream, and so “past” and “future” have no comparative reference. Our technology is thought-based. And some of my people, not all, have the ability to move through time and to cross the borders between worlds.’

‘Yes, you’re right, that’s a lot to take in all at once.’ Gideon is silent
for a moment. ‘It does explain…I mean, I can see…But how does it work?’

‘A mental process, one that is not unknown in some of the religious orders of Tibet, although at a very primitive stage of development. Some of the exercises I have given you to develop remote viewing form part of the early training. And you are right: this is by no means the first time I have visited your world.’

‘I see,’ he murmurs quietly.

‘I have a certain natural aptitude and was trained from an early age to act as a time guardian. My work has taken me to many places. I am here now because I, along with others, have a task to perform. Your world is in great danger. In order to avert a catastrophe we needed the assistance of someone from this side. That was my task: to find and train a working partner.’

‘So you picked on me?’

‘You agreed to this, Gideon.’

‘But that was years ago, long before all this started. I was a child, for God’s sake, you had no right—’

‘No, it wasn’t like that. Remember the fluid nature of time. Remember the river, moving upstream and downstream. In your time, it was about two years ago when you agreed to work with me. I then went back to your childhood to commence the training.’

‘So, wait a minute. That means you went back and changed my future. Everything I am, my work, my life, is built around what you have taught me. So this person who agreed to this, it wasn’t me. Not as I am now. So how did you know…?’ Still on the floor, Gideon holds his head in his hands and rocks his body. ‘I don’t understand any of this.’

‘You will. As I have explained before, you already know everything. Your memory has been locked until now, for your own protection. You agreed to that also. But you will adjust quite quickly now that you have been reminded. However, I think that this is enough for you to deal with for the present. Besides, your friend is returning and you must be ready to welcome her.’

Gideon looks up and, at the same moment, there is a knock on the
door. He scrambles to his feet and lets Lacey in.

Lacey has no idea what to expect. Even so, she is taken by surprise. Exquisite, that’s the word that leaps into her mind when she sees the woman sitting in the armchair. Her face is like a china doll’s, and those eyes are unbelievable. Her hair looks like something out of a shampoo advert.

‘Lacey. I am so happy to meet you.’ The woman rises, and comes forward, smiling. Lacey almost expects her to bow, oriental fashion. ‘Gideon has told me so much about you and how much you have helped him.’

‘Has he?’ Lacey glances at Gideon, who looks equally surprised.

‘Oh, yes, he tells me everything.’

‘And this is Cassandra, my, er…she’s…’

Cassandra welcomes Lacey with a kiss on the cheek. ‘I feel as if I have known you for a long time. We are like old friends.’

Lacey is a little taken aback. ‘Gideon said you’re some sort of expert in this psychic stuff.’

‘Did he?’ She smiles at him over Lacey’s shoulder. He’s looking confused and uncomfortable. ‘Gideon has been most concerned about you all. And, yes, I do have a certain knowledge in these matters, and he seemed to need me most urgently. My journey was therefore made in such haste—there was no time even to change clothes.’

‘Did you come by taxi, then?’

‘And you have been so kind as to assist me in this present predicament?’ Cassandra looks at the holdall Lacey is carrying and the coat over her arm.

‘Oh, yes. I brought some jeans—I hope that’s all right? Gideon told me that you’re smaller than me, but I thought you could turn the bottoms up.’ She pulls out a shirt and a sweater. ‘It’s been a bit cold here. And there’s some trainers and socks. This is one of Drew’s jackets. It’ll go around you twice, but at least it’s waterproof. And there’s some personal things in the bottom of the bag.’ She hands everything over.

‘I’m sure they will be just perfect. Thank you so much. And how is Drew this morning?’

Lacey looks to Gideon, wondering just how much he has told Cassandra. ‘He’s, er, still getting over last night. We both are.’

‘Yes, it couldn’t have been easy for any of you. I am hoping to meet Drew later. But, now that I have some appropriate clothing,’ she turns to Gideon, ‘I think we ought to go and visit Matthew.’

I
T RAINS LIKE HELL
all the way to Addenbrooke’s Hospital. Water lies in sheets, and it sprays like wings from the wheels of Gideon’s Jaguar as it slices through country roads. The city is no better. Heavy traffic slows them to a near halt. Ancient buildings stand heavy and grey around them, and red tail-lights flare through the windscreen, their distorted reflections snaking across wet tarmac. Cassandra is alert, turning from window to window, her back held upright and away from the seat. Gideon glances at her every other moment, repeatedly asking if she is all right, but her attention is fully focused on the traffic.

‘Have you travelled on our roads before?’

‘You still use fossil fuels. They’re surprisingly efficient.’

‘I expect your people move about by telekinesis; you know, think and you’re there?’

She laughs. ‘Not at all. Yes, there are those who have mastered thought travel, but it is not for everyone or for everyday use. We do have machines for transportation, but would it surprise you to learn that we often get around by walking?’

‘But you say you have time machines?’

‘Not machines, no. As I explained, time travel is not a mechanical thing but a mental process brought about by the focusing of thought.
Once scientists fully grasp the principles of quantum physics and the illusory nature of the material world, it takes only a small shift of logic to overcome distances. From there, the navigation of time is a natural progression.’

‘But, surely, the very act of moving back in time will alter the future from which you came. So how do you—’

‘Look, Gideon, everything you do changes the future. You of all people should know that time is not a concrete runway. Did you not write that it is like a river, meandering through space, frequently doubling back on itself? Sometimes it moves slowly, sometimes the currents are swift. You can drift downstream, then propel yourself back the way you came. That’s what you said.’

And there the discussion ends as Gideon swerves into the only available parking space. He holds her hand as they run through the deluge to the admission wards.

The nurse who takes their names instructs them to wait in the ward reception area. They are informed that this is not strictly visiting time, but, as the circumstances of Mr Caxton’s admission are rather unusual and as he is in a private room, they might make an exception. Cassandra removes her raincoat, or rather Drew’s, and lays it on a bench where it drips a puddle onto the floor. Gideon’s jacket is woefully inadequate and he’s wet through. From the sixth floor, they look out over the fields to the Gog Magog hills and Wandlebury, now obscured by the incessant downpour.

‘Gideon!’ Triss comes running through the door and throws her arms around his neck.

It is some time before he is able to hold her at arm’s length. ‘Let me look. You know, this is the first time I’ve seen any colour in your cheeks. I bet your eyes have been lighting up the ward. And how is he?’

‘Matthew’s well, very well. A little tired. But they can’t find anything wrong with him. Only, he can’t remember anything about the time he
was missing.’ She notices Cassandra standing behind Gideon. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d brought someone with you.’

He makes the introductions, explaining that Cassandra is an expert in the same field as himself and is interested in what’s been happening at the schoolhouse.

‘Well,’ says Triss, ‘I don’t know what you did last night, Gideon, but—’

‘We mustn’t jump to conclusions,’ he says hastily. ‘The police think he just wandered off into the fields.’

‘Gideon, I know he was muddy and wet through, but his skin, his nails and hair, they were clean. If he’d been sleeping rough in a field for over a week, he would have been caked with dirt. And he didn’t need a shave until this morning. If I noticed that, I’m sure the police did. Still, I won’t argue with them. The quicker we can leave all this behind—’

‘Do you think we would be allowed to see him?’ Cassandra asks.

Triss turns to her and sees the bouquet of summer flowers she is holding.

‘Are those for Matthew?’

‘There’s a shop downstairs. Gideon told me it is a custom to bring flowers to patients in hospital. Though I think, perhaps, you will enjoy them more than your husband.’

‘They’re beautiful. Do you want to come through and say hello? Of course he won’t know you, will he? Either of you. But he needs to meet you.’ Triss looks thoughtfully at Gideon. ‘I tried to explain what happened to him, but I don’t think he’s really grasped it. And he knows nothing about the other stuff that’s been going on, and I’d rather he didn’t for the moment. So, I’ll have to say it for him…’ she falters. ‘Only, now I don’t know what to say. “Thank you” is for when someone holds the door open for you. What do you say to someone who’s probably saved your life?’

Matthew is propped up on pillows and looking through a pile of newspapers. Triss introduces his visitors. He immediately offers his hand to Gideon, but he looks straight at Cassandra. Gideon recognizes him as the man in the photograph. He’d first seen him in a dream, on
a beach with the sea behind him. Seawater? Interesting, considering he was soaked in the stuff when he returned.

‘I gather I owe you. Triss told me about you, but I’m afraid I can’t remember…’ And yet he looks at Cassandra with a glint of recognition in his eyes.

‘Catching up with the news?’ asks Gideon.

‘I’ve lost a whole week, so I’m trying to fill in the gaps. Every day there’s something about me. It’s weird.’ His hands shuffle through the papers, but his eyes never leave Cassandra.

She lays the flowers on the bedside table. ‘I hope these won’t wilt.’

‘I’ll put them in water. There are some vases in the kitchen.’ Triss picks up the bouquet and leaves the room.

Cassandra immediately turns to Gideon. ‘This won’t take a moment.’

Gideon instinctively knows to step away. He stands by the window and watches Cassandra as she places her hands on either side of Matthew’s head. She murmurs something he cannot hear, and Matthew’s eyes close and remain closed even after she releases him. It is not until Triss returns that he blinks himself back to consciousness and admires the flowers. They talk lightly about everything and nothing until the nurse comes in and says that Matthew must rest.

Triss follows them out to the reception area and tries to thank them again.

‘Matthew is safe now,’ says Cassandra, ‘but there are things still to be done. May we use the house?’

‘Yes, of course. We won’t be going back there, at least for a while. I’m not sure I ever want to live there again. But, yes, do whatever you want. I left a spare key with Audrey.’

Outside, the rain has not relented. They make a dash for the car, picking their way around huge puddles that are spreading over the car park. The car doors slam and they wipe rain from their faces.

‘So, what was that all about?’ asks Gideon. ‘Were you trying to find out what he remembers?’

‘No. On the contrary, I was making sure that he won’t remember anything at all. Triss and Matthew have been through enough without some medical expert thinking he’s psychotic. Besides, there’s work to be done and we don’t need the authorities asking awkward questions.’

‘Are you going to tell me where he was all that time? Surely he wasn’t wandering around lost in your world for over a week?’

‘No. He didn’t actually go anywhere. It was more a matter of when. He’d fallen back through time. And, for him, it was only a matter of hours, not days.’

‘And the seawater?’

‘A lot of this area is below sea level. Until quite recently it was all wetlands. Go back a little further and it was linked to inlets from the sea.’

‘So, he was right here all the time? That’s what Triss felt.’

‘And so did you, Gideon.’

He reaches for the ignition and turns on the wipers. ‘OK. Where would you like to go now?’

‘Well, I think you need to dry out, and, as this rain is not going to stop, you’d better find something more waterproof to wear.’

‘You’re probably right.’

‘Gideon, I’ve always wanted to see your home.’

He opens the door to his flat. Five days since he was last here, and it feels like months. The room is dim and stuffy, but not cold. He opens the balcony doors to let in light and air and the sound of rain drumming on the pavement below.

‘I think I need a coffee. I’ll put the kettle on while I get dry. Can I make you some tea?’

‘Yes, or fruit juice if you have it.’

Again, Gideon is reluctant to leave Cassandra, but he is beginning
to trust that she will still be there. Dry and in fresh clothes, he returns to the sitting room with a tray.

‘Is orange juice all right? Not freshly squeezed, I’m afraid, but the carton was sealed and in the fridge.’

Cassandra, her back to him, is standing at the balcony door. She turns towards him and smiles as he speaks. Daylight halos her head, and her hair is a column of polished ebony. He thinks he has never seen anything so perfect. He dare not ask her how long this will last, but he knows that, no matter how much he wants her to stay with him, she is not of this world.

‘Look at the river, Gideon.’ He stands beside her and they look across to the Cam, which is swollen and churned to a muddy green. The air is so full of rain that they can barely see the common land beyond.

‘I have so often pictured you here, in this room.’ She steps away from him, looking at his art treasures, small sculptures and paintings. ‘That’s the Franz Marc, isn’t it? I remember when you bought it, how excited you were. It’s beautiful, as if the sunlight has fractured the trees themselves into their own spectrum.’ She moves to a shelf where there are some pieces of origami, a dragon and a complex polygon, tracing their edges with her finger. ‘You made these, didn’t you? They are very good.’

‘Why origami, for heaven’s sake?’ he asks. ‘I know you needed some means of teaching me to control a flow of energies with my mind. But why paper folding?’

‘It’s a very appropriate analogy. Come, drink your coffee while I explain.’ They sit either side of a low coffee table.

‘Now, Gideon, it’s time to draw the last of those memories back into place. By now, you should be thoroughly conversant with the basic structure of the non-physical universe.’

‘Time, space, bound together by the underlying matrix of aether—standard metaphysical theory—but why the paper?’

‘Material forms, in turn, affect the nature of the underlying energy field, in the same way that the folds of the bird are embedded in the fabric of the paper. The fibres of the material retain a tendency to form that shape. If you refold the bird, the lotus is still there within it. If
you fold the lotus, it contains the potential of the bird.’

‘Yes, but we’ve gone over this before. I’m probably being a bit dense, but I can’t see—’

‘Gideon, think about it. Whichever world you are in, there is the imminent potential of the other. Unlike the paper, two worlds can
continue
to fully exist simultaneously within the same space-time field. It is a very crude comparison, but one that will suffice.’

‘I see.’ He speaks slowly. ‘Yes, I’m beginning…Different worlds built on different templates but within the same energy field. This would be normal throughout the cosmos?’

‘Yes.’

‘So, why is there a problem?’

‘The folds can be compared to lines of stress. The points where the folds of the different shapes cross each other are like the places at which the worlds intersect. The stress on those areas is greater and therefore the underlying matrix is weaker, less stable. These areas, where the separation between worlds is at its most fragile, may be used as access points, places where it is easy to cross over from one world to another. Some of these are already known to you.’

‘Of course, there are places all over the world. Special places. Centres of cosmic power, that’s what we’re talking about, isn’t it? Energy centres, like the Great Pyramids and Stonehenge. Places where people claim to have mystical experiences.’

‘There are a great many of these intersection points, although they vary in intensity, of course. There are several in this area, in fact. Like Wandlebury and Castle Hill.’

‘And Gainsborough Street?’

‘Yes, and Gainsborough Street.’

Gideon leans back and takes a deep breath, trying to absorb the concept and all its implications. ‘These are places where the gods themselves have been seen, aren’t they? You say you can move between worlds? Tom’s angels, is that what happened? Did he actually see your people?’

‘A mental vision. Imagination, that was all. But enough. However, these areas are highly active energy centres and the mind can be
affected both psychologically and spiritually. Most of the phenomena are genuine psychic experiences. It is even possible that, for some subjects, the environment may bring about a sudden expansion of consciousness; a genuine spiritual or mystical experience. But I’m afraid there have also been a few instances of mistaken identity.’

‘But surely there’s a moral question here? Are you not misleading people?’

‘I’m afraid it’s worse than that, Gideon. Much, much worse.’ Cassandra stands and walks over to the open balcony door, looking out at the green-grey sky.

‘Well, are you going to tell me?’

She is silent for a moment, then sighs deeply before she speaks. Her voice is so soft that he can barely catch her words. ‘Like all of humanity, we made mistakes. As we evolved, we discovered our capabilities and went on journeys of discovery. Oh, we were full of ourselves, blinded by our own knowledge and pride. What we did not realize was…’ She falters. ‘Think of the paper retaining both shapes. What would happen if you kept refolding it, over and over again?’

‘Well, the fibres would eventually wear away and it would start to disintegrate.’

‘Exactly. Repeatedly passing through the energy at those points of stress causes it to weaken and begin to break down. Quite literally, tears and splits appear in the matrix that holds the physical world together. This is what is happening in Gainsborough Street. To put it simply, there is a rip in the aether, something that began as a minor fault and that is now becoming a serious threat.’