Small Blue Thing (4 page)

I loved coming to St Paul’s. As a kid I had come here regularly: Mum and Dad raved about the view out across London and every foreign visitor we had was made to come and admire it. From the top, looking to the east, you could see the Tower of London and Tower Bridge nestling between the tall smooth buildings of the city. The hills of Hampstead and Highgate reared
up to the north, and if the weather was good enough, you could see Richmond Park in the far south-west. It was a long walk up to the Golden Gallery, the highest point you could get to: hundreds of steps, but worth it. I had always been fascinated by the construction of the dome, with the latticework of the internal wooden structure through which the stairs climbed to the top. I just had to be careful not to look down too often, as some of the drops were dizzyingly precipitous. Worst of all was the glass peephole at the top that let you look down at the tiny people hundreds of metres directly below your feet. It always made me feel queasy thinking about that drop, wondering if they could see me hundreds of feet above them, looking down at what they were doing.

But today I wasn’t going to have the chance to go up to the top, there was too much to do on the project.

The cool and gloom inside St Paul’s was a marked contrast from the dazzling sunshine and frenetic activity outside. As we walked through the entrance it was as if someone had pulled a shutter down over the brightness, noise and twenty-first century living going on outside. We shuffled through the turnstiles with the rest of the class as our eyes adjusted slowly to the muted light. Something about the atmosphere was strangely intimidating, and all the chattering in relief that the drive was over petered out as we all gazed up into the height of the roof. Every visitor was the same, I noticed: no one was able to come in and not be awed by the huge space. At this end, the cathedral was empty, with no pews or monuments, just a vast expanse of chequerboard floor and towering columns reaching up to the vaulted ceiling. No matter how many times I had been here before it always took my breath away.

Grace and I got out our notebooks and maps and began to
look for the monuments we needed to sketch. As we walked up the centre of the nave Grace started to giggle.

“Imagine Lady Di walking all the way along here in that dress,” she snorted. I shuddered: I couldn’t imagine anything worse, talking that long walk with the world watching, to marry a man who didn’t really love her.

“If I ever get married I’m going to run off to a beach,” I agreed, “not get dolled up in a huge frilly dress and cost my parents thousands.” Dad might disagree though, I thought wryly. He was the only reason I might consider the whole white meringue routine. Rob’s face flickered into my mind, but as I glanced down at the bracelet on my wrist, he was instantly replaced by a memory of the stunning face I had seen last night. I shook my head to clear it – I really should concentrate on what I was supposed to be doing.

Grace and I had reached the central part of the cathedral, under the spectacular dome.

“Wow,” she breathed and we both stared up. The dome was magnificent, curving majestically high above us. There was a quiet buzz of conversation, and we saw people up in the Whispering Gallery, trying out the famous acoustics. You were supposed to be able to sit around the edge of the huge circular balcony that ran around the inside of the dome, and whisper against the wall. Then someone on the far side, the whole width of the building away, should be able to hear the whisper. I had never been able to make it work, but the tourists seemed to love it.

“I need to check out Nelson,” Grace muttered, biting her lip as she consulted her map.

“Nelson’s in the crypt. The entrance is over there, I think,” I said. “I’ll be there in a second; I just want to look at something in the middle.” Grace started rummaging in her bag for a pencil as she
went to find the tomb.

I walked slowly forward until I was below the exact centre of the dome, which was marked on the floor by a large mosaic star. High above me I could see the glass panel of the peephole, but before I could work out if anyone up there was looking down at me, I felt dizzy from leaning backwards. I straightened up and froze with shock.

Directly in front of me was the boy whose face I had imagined last night. He was even more gorgeous in the flesh, with spectacular bone structure and tousled dark blond hair. I could barely breathe and was struggling to regain my composure when I realised that he was looking at me with an equally stunned expression. He quickly looked over his shoulder, as if to check that I was looking at him and not at something behind him. It seemed a strange thing to do given that his looks could stop traffic. His eyes were a vibrant, stunning blue, and now I could see him properly there was a very slight kink in his nose, as if it might have been broken years before. As I stared I realised that I had seen the colour of his eyes before – they were exactly the same blue as the stone in my bracelet. Not really believing what I was seeing, I touched the bracelet and stole a quick glance towards it.

His eyes flicked down towards my wrist and I saw them widen in surprise. His hand flew to his own wrist, and I saw he was wearing an identical band. Another expression transformed his face. Was it alarm? He looked back at me and took a couple of steps closer.

“Keep cool,” I muttered to myself under my breath, as I tried to look a little less startled and more composed and interesting. I went for a tentative half smile. He really was stunningly handsome, and I couldn’t imagine what he wanted with me, but it was
worthwhile trying to keep his attention for a minute longer.

He seemed to be struggling with something which made him frown, but then he too smiled, with a strange look of wonderment. He was even more beautiful when he smiled, with a deep crease in one cheek and a flash of perfect white teeth.

“Hello,” I whispered, surprising myself for speaking out. He continued to stand there, smiling more confidently now, but saying nothing. This was going to be harder than I imagined. Maybe he didn’t speak English.

“Alex!” called a voice behind me. Grace was looking at me strangely. “Are you coming…?”

“I’ll be right there,” I replied over my shoulder, trying not to lose too much eye contact with my silent companion. “I’m supposed to be working on an art project…” I started to explain to him, then tailed off. How lame was that? Not exactly the sort of thrilling conversation that was going to hold the interest of someone like him. He was still standing there, and I noticed that he was wearing a strange, full-length cloak that was pushed back behind his shoulders, secured by a thick cord by his neck. Weird. It would be just my luck if someone this lovely was a monk.

He looked as if he was about to say something, but before he could speak a group of German tourists suddenly appeared, with a guide who was telling them about the peephole in the dome’s roof. The guide was right behind him, pointing up while walking backwards and talking to his group. I could see that the guide was about to walk into him, so I instinctively reached out to pull him out of the way. As I touched his arm I felt a slight tingling sensation and my hand went right through him. I pulled back as if I had been electrified. This wasn’t possible. I looked at him again in puzzlement. His face was struggling with several emotions. One
was clearly joy – he was still smiling – but he also looked really frustrated.

After a few seconds the German tourists moved on, so he wasn’t about to be trampled any more. I must have made a mistake, I decided; perhaps his clothes were made of some strange slippery fabric, or perhaps I was just distracted by his astonishing beauty. There was no way my hand had actually gone through him – people were solid, so there had to be a rational explanation. I tried again, spotting a good conversation opener.

“I, um, I see you have the same bracelet as I do.” I gestured towards my band and to his. He looked down at his arm, then directly into my eyes.

He couldn’t have been much older than me but those beautiful eyes hinted at pain and sorrow. He raised his arm to show me his wrist. The band there seemed identical to mine. Thinking it would be better to compare them side by side, I smiled and took a couple of steps towards him. As I moved, the air around him seemed to swirl, and he was gone. I looked around wildly, but he had completely disappeared. Grace was right behind me though, arms folded, with a quizzical look on her face.

“Where did he go?” I demanded, continuing to scan the crowds of tourists flowing past us.

“Who?” asked Grace in surprise.

“That guy! The one in the cloak. Where has he gone?”

“I didn’t see anyone in a cloak.”

“You must have done. He was right here; I was talking to him…”

“Alex,” Grace put a gentle hand on my arm, “you were standing here on your own, and you looked like you were talking to yourself. That’s why I came back over.”

“But he was standing just there, the best looking guy I have ever seen…” I faltered. She
must
have noticed him.

“I think maybe you need to have a sit-down,” Grace said soothingly, pulling me by the arm over to the front row of the pews.

“There is nothing wrong with me,” I protested, still straining up on to the tips of my toes to catch a glimpse of him in the crowd.

“Sweetie, you have been standing on your own in the middle of the church looking slightly demented,” Grace murmured. “One of the others was going to notice pretty soon, and I didn’t think you’d want that sort of abuse.”

I sank into the pew, defeated.

“Perhaps you need some water,” she continued. “Or maybe some fresh air.”

“I’ll be fine,” I sighed. “Just give me a minute.” She wasn’t going to let me off so easily.

“Soooo, you were talking to a man in a cloak who I couldn’t see. Does that sum it up?”

“When you put it like that it does seem unlikely,” I admitted. She hadn’t seen him then, that much was clear. What could I say? She already had a slightly disbelieving tone, and what I could tell her would only convince her that I was completely nuts. An invisible guy who I couldn’t touch? That was going to be hard to swallow.

Suddenly I was relieved that I hadn’t mentioned the strange incident last night – she was my best friend but I didn’t want to have to push her too far. I needed to try and make some sense of this myself before sharing it with anyone, including Grace.

I sat back and closed my eyes, running through the scene again. The guy whose image I had seen last night had been standing right in front of me. He no longer looked as fierce; he had looked
positively stunning. I couldn’t help grinning when I thought of his smile and of how much better he looked when he was happy. In fact, he was so gorgeous I could feel myself starting to blush.

“Alex?” Grace touched my arm. “Are you OK? Do you need me to get Mrs Bell?”

I shook my head. The last thing I needed was more questions. “I’m fine. I think maybe I should have had something for breakfast. I went a bit wobbly there for a minute.”

Grace heaved a great sigh of relief. “You had me worried,” she admitted. “You were acting pretty weird.”

“You have no idea,” I murmured to myself, slightly surprised that she accepted the excuse. “Shall we get on with Nelson and Wellington?” I said, standing up. I was going to have to think about this later, once I was on my own. Was I going mad? An involuntary shiver ran down my spine at that thought. I looked around again furtively but there was no sign of him anywhere.

Reflections

After that the St Paul’s project felt pretty irrelevant. I couldn’t stop searching around me to see if I could see his face in the crowd. But there was no sign of him, only a slightly unsettling feeling of being watched. I peered at the bracelet a few times, and a couple of times I thought I saw the suggestion of movement in it, but nothing like the blinking I thought I had seen yesterday. The whole thing was bizarre.

Grace kept checking up on me as if I was some sort of invalid, and I was really relieved when it was time to get back on the minibus and go back to school. It was parked just round the corner and I jumped on and grabbed a seat at the back.

Grace still wasn’t letting up.

“Any more apparitions yet?” The question was clearly meant kindly, but I didn’t want to talk about it. I needed distracting, and the easiest way would be to distract her.

“Not a single one.” I tried to laugh, and nearly made it convincing. “I think it must just be all the stress, especially now I’ve got Rob to worry about…”

“Good point,” she agreed. “That is going to be a tricky decision. Tell me again exactly what he said?”

“I’d much rather you tell me exactly what your plans are with Jack,” I countered, suddenly inspired. “Has he spoken to you yet today? I’ve never seen him take so much interest in anyone
before.”

We had been over all this in minute detail last night, but I had a hunch that it was one topic that Grace would be delighted to return to as often as possible. She radiated happiness.

She was soon off on a long description of all the texts he had sent so far today and what she had replied. It only took the occasional prompt from me to keep her on track. It was lovely to see how excited she was.

When the minibus finally made it back to school we had free time in which to work on our projects. Grace went off to the art department to stock up on the supplies she was going to need for her pictures. I quickly made my way up to the library and found a quiet computer in the corner.

It was a well-stocked library with a long bank of computers, but it was generally busy and you had to fight for spaces. By the middle of the afternoon though, there was no problem in finding one free. I sat in a quiet corner by the window and tried to organise my thoughts, reassuring myself that if I was going mad I wouldn’t be so keen to find a rational explanation for everything I had seen.

My usual way to solve any problem was to Google the question, but this time I didn’t even know what to type in – cloaked, untouchable people in St Paul’s? I couldn’t imagine that there would be much information on that. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, but I couldn’t bring myself to type anything so stupid. I looked down at my hands and considered the bracelet. I rubbed the stone pensively, staring out across the playing fields where the netball team were thrashing some poor visiting school on a summer tour. As I watched I saw our captain, Helen, slam in another goal. The visiting team, their heads down low, really looked as if they wished it was all over.

As I glanced away from the window and down at the stone, I thought of the boy’s face again. I smiled to myself and turned my attention back to the computer. At that point the sunshine suddenly broke through the clouds and lit me up, giving a clear reflection of my face in the screen in front of me.

He was right behind me, the sunlight illuminating his hauntingly beautiful face. I was so startled I shouted out loud and whipped my head around.

I was quite alone.

A finger of ice ran down between my shoulder blades. What was going on? Looking back at the screen, I could see the surprise on his face as I jumped up, knocking my chair over as I went. A few curious eyes lifted from books across the library, and as I quickly scanned around it was clear that there was nowhere he could be hiding. I felt another shiver of fear.

“What is going on?” Miss Neil came bustling over, talking very pointedly in a loud whisper.

“Um, I’m really sorry,” I mumbled, searching for inspiration. Clearly I couldn’t tell her I was seeing things. “A wasp!” it came to me suddenly. “There was a wasp in my hair but I managed to get it out before it stung me.”

“Well, that is unfortunate, but do please try to keep the noise down. Not everyone has finished their exams,” she hissed.

“Sorry,” I muttered, picking up my chair and sitting back down as she retreated around the corner to her desk. I waited until I could hear that she was sitting down before I looked again at the screen.

The sun was behind a cloud, so the image wasn’t so bright, but I could still see a faint shadow over my shoulder. As I watched the sun emerged, and, as the light brightened he came back into
focus.

He was breathtaking.

The sunlight touched his dark blond hair, making it almost gleam. His eyes seemed a darker blue in contrast, with impenetrable depths. But they were friendly, and a gentle smile played around his soft, full lips. The dimple reappeared in his cheek.

I took a deep breath, then stole a quick glance over my shoulder. There was nothing there.

I looked back at the screen, where my reflection was still crystal-clear. He was right beside me. I stifled the urge to panic – there had to be some sort of rational explanation for this. I closed my eyes for a second, steadying myself. When I opened them he was still there, with a look of concern creasing his perfect features. As I looked at him he smiled gently, almost hopefully, and I felt my heart lurch.

I glanced around me. The library was silent, interrupted only by the occasional rustle of a page turning and a keyboard being tapped. The world was going on as usual. And in front of me something strange and supernatural was happening.

I took another breath and tried to rationalise things. I didn’t believe in ghosts, so that was unlikely. Someone from another dimension? That was just plain silly. A trick? Josh just loved using the latest gizmos to wind me up, but he didn’t have the technology to create this. Hallucination? It was the only option which made any kind of sense, even if it did mean that I was losing my mind. At least I was hallucinating an extremely high-quality fantasy man. The thought made me smile wryly.

As I smiled his whole face lit up, changing from concern to something which looked a lot like joy, and maybe relief. His beautiful eyes crinkled up, the gold flecks dancing in the sunshine.
How could my imagination have conjured up someone so spectacular?

This was ridiculous. I shut my eyes again, tearing myself away from that compelling gaze. I couldn’t be going mad.

I thought back. This had all started just yesterday, when I first put on the bracelet. I had been wearing it when I first saw his face. And I had been wearing it again today. How had I managed to conjure up this vision of beauty from a piece of jewellery? The thought made me look down at it, the light in the stone dancing lazily in the summer sunshine.

I looked back at his face, and saw he too was considering my bracelet, his brow furrowing very slightly. He raised his hand, and I could see again the matching piece on his wrist. Despite its weight it looked fragile on his well-muscled forearm. My hand reached for the heavy silver on my own slimmer wrist. Was I going crazy, or was this exerting some strange influence over me?

Without stopping to think about it, I ripped the bracelet off my arm. As I did his face shimmered and was gone. I was alone again at my desk.

I gasped at the sudden change, looking around me to be sure. Nothing in the library had changed. The gentle sounds of pages turning and keyboards tapping continued around me. I fought back panic. What was happening to me?

I looked at the bracelet lying on the desktop. How had it done that?

I twisted and turned to examine it closely without touching it, thankful that I was in a very secluded part of the library. The bracelet sat there in the sunshine, flecks in the blue opal flashing red and yellow as I moved around it. Beautiful, but surely that was all? How could something that looked so lovely and harmless do
something so weird? I realised that my heart was pounding and tried to relax, to slow things down a little. But almost immediately I had to try it again. I took a deep breath and edged my finger towards it, resting just the tip on the still-warm metal of the band.

The stone darkened, almost as if a shadow had passed through it from the inside. I lifted my finger and the movement stopped. I touched it again, more firmly this time, putting my fingers inside and curling them around the metal. The shadow rolled across the stone again and suddenly he was back behind me, his reflection clear in the computer screen. His face was a picture of confusion, and panic. That was odd – why would he be panicking too?

I moved my hand away from the bracelet, and just as quickly he was gone. I realised that my hands were shaking so I took a deep breath, held on to the table tightly and sat up straight in my chair. The whole thing was bizarre. I seemed to be conducting an experiment on paranormal behaviour involving antique jewellery. Perhaps I should be in the physics lab where Miss Deeley and her instruments could record what was happening. Suddenly, part of me wanted to laugh out loud with the absurdity of it all, but a much larger part was beating back a wave of fright. I shook my head. “Focus!” I told myself sternly. I must try not to panic: becoming hysterical wasn’t going to help. There was definitely no way I could share this with anyone, not even Grace. How could I begin to explain it? It was all far too peculiar, and I needed to work it out for myself.

My first priority was to go somewhere else. I couldn’t risk doing anything more in here that would bring Miss Neil and a detention flying to my side. I needed to do this at home.

Luckily it wasn’t long until the final bell, and I raced down
to the coaches, my mind spinning. I had picked up the bracelet with a pencil and stashed it securely in my bag, not daring to touch it again. I could almost feel it there, waiting for me. But however weird this was, somehow it didn’t feel too threatening. Scary, yes, but only because it was inexplicable. I couldn’t see how it could be dangerous, and the more I thought about it I realised I was actually more excited than anything else, and could hardly wait to get home and test some more theories. I almost managed to fool myself that I just wanted to test it, that the thought of seeing him again wasn’t my main motivation.

Grace was on the coach, but I didn’t want to talk about what had happened earlier, or what the next steps should be with Rob or Jack. I knew that if she started asking me questions about what I had seen in St Paul’s I wouldn’t be able to lie convincingly, and I wasn’t ready to share it with her just yet. I wanted to think, as my head was bursting with ideas about what I needed to do, and I needed to consider each one.

“I’m feeling a bit off,” I explained, guiltily. “My head aches. Maybe I did eat something odd earlier…”

Grace looked concerned for me, but she took the hint and didn’t press me. I could hear the usual buzz of conversation, but managed to fade everyone out and consider my options. It seemed to me that there were three possible explanations, some more likely than others. It could be Josh and his tricks, but I was sure that something of this scale was beyond him, so that wasn’t really worth considering; it could be some sort of projection from the bracelet; or it could be that I was going mad and hallucinating. The best-case scenario was the projection answer, but I was getting increasingly afraid that I was losing my mind.

When Josh and I finally got home, Mum and Dad were
out. I needed to make sure he wasn’t going to disturb me, so was pleased to see that he was helping himself to an enormous quantity of food from the fridge. He was clearly going to be busy for a while, so I ran upstairs.

My small room was still a complete mess from last night’s sleepover. Ignoring it all, I shoved all the junk from my desk to one side, clearing enough space to work. I went back and checked the door. Downstairs I could hear the sound of Josh watching the kitchen TV, so he wasn’t about to disturb me. I carefully shut the door and turned to face my desk, my heart hammering.

My bag was sitting there, its secret waiting for me. I thought about what I was going to need. My desk lamp was pretty bright, but my laptop was not terribly reflective. I took my mirror off the wall and propped it up in front of me. Next I got out my mobile and called up Josh’s number. Then if I needed help I just had to press the green button, I reasoned.

I could barely contain myself as I reached for my bag. I fished the bracelet out with a pencil and laid it gently on the desk. It sat there glistening in the lamplight, and I felt my heart rate increase. I knew now that it definitely wasn’t just excitement about the strange phenomenon I was about to test. I was excited because I was about to see his face again. Whatever the consequences, I wanted to be able to look at him properly; I wanted to see him smile again. I hesitantly reached forward for the band.

His face appeared in the mirror immediately I grasped the silver. He was behind my right shoulder, looking just as if he was about to whisper something in my ear. My heart leapt at the thought. His eyes, which were so blue they ought to be cold and threatening, looked unbelievably inviting. The mirror gave a much clearer reflection than the screen in the library. I could see his
perfect skin, the highlights in his hair, and the gentle curve of his lips as he started to smile.