Portent (34 page)

    Josh slipped from the stool and ran to his mother's outstretched arms. She hugged him close and kissed his cheek. 'Eva's going to be okay, Josh,' she told him, curling her fingers through his tousled hair.

    'Is she still awake?'

    'Uh huh. Not even sleepy now. How did you know earlier, Josh? When I rang this afternoon?'

    He shrugged. 'I just felt her wake. I told you she wasn't sleeping any more, didn't I?'

    'Yes, yes, you did.'

    'Is she going home from hospital?'

    'They want to keep her overnight for observation.'

    He pulled his head back to look at her face.

    'To see if she's still all right in the morning,' Diane explained. 'Then I think they'll let Grandad and Grandma take her home.' She pulled him close again and rocked his little body in her arms. 'I wish I understood how it works with you two, this link you have with each other. It's very precious, Josh, that kind of closeness, to know what the other one's thinking, how they feel.'

    'Sometimes it's horrible.'

    'When you get upset with each other?' She felt him nod. 'All brothers and sisters fight from time to time, Josh, even twins like you. It's okay so long as you make up and don't let the bad feeling last.'

    'But I left her in that bad place, I let the bad lady get her.'

    'No, it was only a dream. It didn't really happen. And anyway, she's awake and talking ten-to-the-dozen now. She's going to be fine.'

    'I'm glad Eva's better, Mummy. It's been lonely.'

    She squeezed him. 'You've always got me.'

    'It's not the same.'

    Diane felt a tiny pang of sadness, a regret that no matter how much she showed her love for the children, she would never be quite as close as they were to each other, and although they loved her in return, she would always be just on the outside of their mutual bond. Perhaps if she had been their real mother…

    'Can I draw again, Mummy?'

    She released him, lest he sense her anguish. 'Sure.' She followed him back to the dressing-table. 'That's good, Josh,' she said, looking down at the crayon drawing. 'Is it the garden from your dream?'

    'Yes. See, there's all my friends.'

    The figures, with their matchstick limbs, were colourful and their dot-and-line faces were happy. He and Eva had drawn this same picture time and time again: the bright blue sky crayoned in as a kind of ceiling with a definite end, the round spiky sun beneath it; half a lake jutted in from the left-hand side, and broad green strokes depicted the grass and hills; the matchstick children themselves ran about and waved their arms among tall uncoloured posts. More than once in the past Diane or Bibby had enquired what these posts or pillars were meant to be, but each time Josh and Eva would jerk their shoulders and say: 'They're just there.'

    Diane turned away and went to the window, arms folded beneath her breasts. There wasn't much to see out there-only the car park against a backdrop of now darkening hills-but she had gazed from the window several times throughout the day, hoping to see the hire car pull in and Rivers step out from it. Where could he be? Why would he leave before she and Josh had even risen without knocking on their door or pushing a message under it? It didn't make sense. But then she had felt since the day she met him that Rivers was unpredictable. Oh, he appeared normal and sensible on the surface, but something was going on deep inside him that was as puzzling as it was disconcerting. She wondered if he had been different before the plane crash. Or maybe he'd been a different kind of man before his lover had died. Was he still grieving for her? If only he wasn't so self-contained, if only he would be more open with his feelings. And how much did his physical pain affect him? Sometimes she could see the tension there, the furrowed brow, the tightening of his lips, as pain from his injury bothered him. He disguised it well enough most of the time, but it was always evident in his eyes. The change in his demeanour, the expression of immense relief, when the twins had soothed away the pain had been so notable. Did he, himself, realize that constant hurt was debilitating to the soul as well as the body?
Oh Jim, where are you?
She felt anger.
Why are you doing this?

    Diane made an effort to calm herself and looked back towards Josh. 'Are you tired, honey?'

    Josh laid down his crayon. 'A little bit.'

    'Come on, then, let's tuck you into bed.' She had bathed him earlier after they'd eaten in the hotel's small and, because of the children's early dinner hour, lonely dining room, glad to be distracted for a short time.

    The boy skipped over to his bed and yanked back the cover. Diane folded it down neatly so that only a sheet was over him. Once he was settled she would go to reception-not for the first time that day-and see if there were any messages. It wasn't very logical, but he just might have phoned the hotel without wanting to speak directly to her. Maybe then she'd go to the bar and order a stiff drink; a Scotch and soda would be very welcome right then.

    Josh, who had already snuggled down on to the pillow, suddenly raised his head. He looked past her at the wall as if he could see through it.

    'What is it, Josh?' she asked, laying a hand on his shoulder. 'He's back.'

    'What?'

    'He's back, Mama. And… and he's sort of… sort of funny.'

    'Stay there now.' She laid him down again. 'Just stay quiet, Josh, and try to go to sleep. I won't be long.'

    Josh closed his eyes when his mother left the room, but sleep was far away. His thoughts travelled to an older mind than his, the mind of an ancient who sat in darkness not many miles away and who wept for the world.

    

    

    Shadebank shot his cuffs so that at least three-quarters of an inch showed beneath the sleeves of his linen jacket. He fingered one of the gold cufflinks, his morose gaze fixed on the window of the stretch-limo he and the three other passengers were travelling in. There were not many people on the streets of the city at this time of morning.

    Beside him, and taking up most of the seat, sat Mama Pitie, her eyes closed and fat lips twitching as if she were deep in prayer. The limousine's air-conditioned coolness seemed to provide her with little comfort: she stank of sweat and cheap perfume and her breathing was so laboured she might have been powering the vehicle's engine herself. Was the big woman scared of flying? Shadebank sincerely hoped she was.

    Opposite and facing them were two of Mama's zombies, their eyes lowered but not quite closed, as if they, too, were lost in prayer.

    Crazy. Fuckin' crazy.

    Drivin' to th'airport at this godforsaken hour, skippin' town-skippiri the fuckin' country!-when the cops were this suspicious! But on a return ticket, that was the craziest thing!

    A body had been found out in the swamps (Mama's goons had forgotten the swamplands were mostly dried up nowadays and had dumped the corpse-or what was left of it-where the'gators no longer belly-walked) and word had reached him from impeccable and well-rewarded sources that Mama Pitie was in for some severe questioning. Seemed like the dead guy had been last seen in the company of one of her disciples, a loose enough connection, sure enough, but not when linked with the girl who'd gone missing weeks ago.

    We shoulda stayed cool, Shadebank told himself, and hung around until the dumb cops got tired of askin' the same dumb questions. This way it looked like we was runnin' out.

    Not that he, himself, had intended to remain at the Temple for very much longer anyway. In fact Shadebank had decided only last night that it was definitely time to move on. Things're gettin' too dam' hot, he'd told himself not for the first time over the last day or two. No packed suitcases, justa quick dip inta the safe, then long-gone. Sweet. You might say he was now an old hand at the game.

    But the bitch had spoiled his plan. It was still dark outside when she'd phoned him at the run-down hotel where he rented cheap rooms and told him to reserve four seats on the next plane out of New Orleans. 'Anywhere partic'lar?' he'd enquired testily down the phone, not quite sure if she was kidding him or not. 'England,' she'd said, her voice suddenly quiet and breathy.

    
England!
What the fuck was there for them in England? And why the hell did she want him to go with her? The last question he already had an answer to. Shadebank was an 'educated niggah'; he knew about flying and foreign countries and things. Mama Pitie, for all her wiles and ways, was not experienced in such things. Truth was, she was plain dumb in such matters. That's why she'd taken him in the first place. She was aware of her own limitations, and she knew he could be useful. He tugged at his cufflink and wished her freakish heart would collapse under the strain of keeping her big body functioning before they reached the airport.

    

    

    The first thing that Diane noticed about Rivers was that he was no longer limping. She had reached the hotel's lobby when he came striding through the entrance, his footsteps hurried and an urgency in his expression that stopped her in her tracks.

    He saw Diane immediately and made his way towards her, skirting round a middle-aged couple in walking boots and carrying canvas backpacks who were leaving the reception desk. He raised a hand towards her as he approached.

    Relief followed by anger swept through her.

    'Where…?' she began to say, lips tight, eyes blazing, but instead of finishing the sentence she stepped forward into his arms. 'We've been so worried,' was all she managed.

    His fingers ran through her hair at the back of her neck and he drew her close against his chest. 'We've got to ring the airport and make reservations,' he said, his voice breathless and tense. 'We've got to get back as quickly as possible.'

    She lifted her head away from him. 'There are no late-night flights-I checked when I booked tickets for the journey up. But why, Jim? What's this all about?'

    'D'you know the first morning flight?'

    She shook her head. 'Why the rush?'

    'We have to get back to Eva.'

    Still shaking her head, Diane smiled up at him. 'She's all right, Jim. She's awake now. Poggsy says…'

    'Yeah I know. But we've got to get to her before it's too late.' Diane drew away completely. 'How could you know?'

    'The old man told me she was fine.'

    'The Dream Man? You saw him?'

    'I've been with him all day. It was me all the time, Diane, not Josh. I was the one the old man needed to see.' He took her by the arm and led her out of the lobby into the corridor.

    'You're not limping any more,' she said through her confusion. He smiled grimly and she saw his weariness, an exhaustion that was mingled with something else. Anxiety? Yes, it was certainly that, but there was more to it. She realized it was a guarded kind of elation that shone from his eyes.

    'He's a healer,' Rivers said to her without slowing his step. 'Like Josh and Eva. Like thousands of children of their generation.' Now he stopped to look directly at her and for the moment any elation she might have imagined in his gaze was replaced by another emotion. His words echoed the sadness therein. 'They're our only hope, Diane. Without the children we're lost. The whole bloody world is lost.'

    He walked on and Diane hurried after him.

    

    

    Diane examined the sky as she held open the rear car door for Josh to scramble in. The clouds, so dark and brooding, concealed the early morning sun and shadowed the very air itself.

    Everything was still.

    There was no birdsong.

    And no breeze.

    The long road was deserted.

    And even the houses seemed devoid of life.

    It wasn't cold, yet Diane shivered. She looked across the car's rooftop at Rivers, wondering if he, too, sensed the unearthly mood. The look he returned assured her that he did.

    'Ready?' he asked her.

    She nodded and climbed into the passenger seat. She touched his arm when he joined her in the car. 'Can it be true?' she said.

    'We'll know soon enough,' he replied, reaching for his seat-belt.

    'I'd like to see for myself.' It was more of a request than a demand.

    Rivers was firm. 'No. He insisted that we had to get away from here.'

    'To protect Eva?'

    'Not only that.' He switched on the ignition before turning to Diane. 'We have to trust him.'

    'You don't feel any different this morning? You still believe in him?'

    'Did you think I wouldn't?'

    'Cold light of day and all that…'

    The car rolled forward from the hotel's parking bay into the road and swiftly began to pick up speed as it headed towards Fort William. Because of the morning's greyness, Rivers switched on the headlights.

    'Did you manage to sleep last night?' Diane asked because her own sleep had been so fitful.

    'Like a baby, even though it wasn't for long. I guess I was too exhausted to think any more.' He didn't bother to add that it was the first time in months that pain had not disturbed him. 'And I woke this morning without a doubt in my mind. Don't ask me how or why, but I knew everything he told me was true. Incredible, fantastic-unbelievable-as it is, I know it's right. Even if I hadn't been convinced by his words the lights I saw over the loch showed me something extraordinary was happening.'

    'But what can we do, Jim?'

    'Not much. It's already too late to change anything.'

    Josh, who had been strangely quiet since Diane had roused him that morning, spoke up from the back. 'Are we going home because of Eva?'