Waking Broken (8 page)

Wednesday, 8.46am:

Harper stirred and turned over in the bed. Some kind of distant noise had woken him. His arm reached out from beneath the duvet. The hand at its end flopped across the other pillow: off on its own mission, independent of his still waking brain.

But the hand found nothing and suddenly halted its exploration as the message got through.

Harper rolled the other way and curled up. He stayed clenched in a ball for several minutes. His shoulders moved under the duvet as he sobbed. He had been dreaming about a holiday, somewhere in Scotland, staying beside a loch with Rebecca. Waking, he half thought he was still in the same cottage.

As he stirred, he was unsure whether the dream had been a complete fabrication or disparate memories sown together into a mental comforter. He did not really remember the holiday but some of the images and moments within it had felt too real for the whole thing to be complete illusion. And, true or not, he wanted to hold the memory. He would have given a lot to close his eyes and return there for a few days.

The Scottish holiday came last in a long sequence of dreams. They visited him throughout the night, sometimes interspersed by periods of deep sleep, sometimes in fast and confusing succession. Some were pleasant enough: snapshots of everyday existence, memories of days when life was logical. Others were more the stuff of despair. In one, he ran through dark city streets, knowing he had to escape some evil but with no sense of what that evil was. The pace and cold sweat-inducing urgency of the dream so intense he couldn’t contemplate stopping to work out what was after him. Pure hatred fuelled the force on his heels and it would destroy him if it caught him.

But that nightmare mutated. With the abrupt lack of logic that typified dreams, he suddenly turned from prey to pursuer. Still moving through the same streets, Harper found himself stalking someone or something across a night-time landscape. He never quite got a glimpse of what he was hunting but followed it with the same loathing that had powered him through the earlier dream.

The segue into the Scottish holiday had come as a real relief and its respite from the twin nightmares was another reason he was so loathe to leave it. Now, as he curled in a ball beneath the duvet, the dream images faded all too soon.

Harper wondered for a moment about turning over again but there was no point. He was awake, his mind in gear and he had never learnt the knack of turning it off at will.

As consciousness filtered back in, he became aware of both the stillness in the flat and sounds from the world outside. A train pulled out of the station and traffic noise rose from the street below. Muffled voices seeped in and a bird fluttered outside the window, probably a pigeon.

Harper pushed the duvet back and swung his legs stiffly out of the bed. He sat naked, vaguely contemplating his next act and staring at his knees. The air in the room was cold but standing up and walking to the bathroom seemed like too much effort. Harper frowned. He normally had no problem getting up. Most days he would be out of bed by six-thirty and often through the door for a run or bike ride by seven. He did not need to make himself get up; he just did it.

A sudden cough made his shoulders jerk and he gave a gasp as his still-battered body protested at the movement. The sharp spasm also left him gasping for breath and with a mouthful of nicotine-laden phlegm. That made him move and he staggered to the bathroom to spit. If he believed Brendan, he had stopped smoking no more than forty eight hours earlier. He wondered if his general weariness was an indication of the general health of the body in which he found himself or just a protest at its drug being taken away.

He drew in a deep breath and winced as his lungs wheezed. Harper hated it. He was used to being in control of his body, not the other way around.

Harper listened to the headlines on the radio at nine, more out of habit than any real interest. As he sat at his kitchen table, he sipped a cup of strong tea and worked his way mechanically through slice after slice of toast.

He was still staring into space when the phone rang. He picked it up without thinking. ‘Hello.’

‘Harper. It’s Tony. How you doing, mate? Brendan told us what happened. We just wanted to check how you were doing.’

Harper smiled to himself. Check whether he was genuinely out of action or just skiving more like. He had been half expecting the call. Knowing what Tony was like; he was quite surprised he had left it this late. It must be a busy day in the newsroom.

‘I’m okay, Tony. Still pretty sore but I’m in one piece.’

‘Good, that’s good news.’ There was the briefest pause. ‘You going to be in tomorrow then?’

‘Ah.’ This time it was Harper’s turn to pause and he let it drag out. ‘I’m not sure about that, Tony. Don’t think it’s very likely, to be honest. I’ve got an appointment to see the doctor later this morning. Need to get myself checked out, make sure I’m mending properly.’

‘Oh, I see. Were you badly hurt then?’

Harper hesitated. The concern was superficial and Tony did not sound as if he particularly cared. It seemed odd having to answer to him. In that lost other world from which he appeared to have been evicted, Harper was one rung above Tony not one below.

‘Well, nothing’s actually broken but I’m not exactly in top shape,’ he said slowly. Harper tried to think what to say. There was no way he was going to work. Not yet: that was a part of his life to resolve at a later date. There were far more important matters to deal with. For now, he would have to make his excuses.

He frowned to himself. Ten years ago he would not have hesitated about throwing a sickie when he wanted extra time off. A few extra years and growing responsibility had left him out of the habit. A mixture of ambition and a sense of duty, plus the fact he did actually enjoy his job, meant he had not missed a day’s work for years. Now he found himself at a loss for words. Physically, nothing major was wrong with him. He still looked a mess. But, while it would probably take weeks for the bruises and aches to disappear, he was quite capable of what was essentially a desk-bound job. Mentally, though, it was another matter. He probably would not last more than a few hours: if for no other reason than being unable to avoid saying something out of place. It would be easy. An innocent mention of something that seemed reasonable — based on the world as he knew it — could come out as completely irrational. Or he would say something of which he couldn’t possibly have any knowledge. Like Rebecca’s secrets.

‘You still there, Harper?’

‘Uh, yeah, sorry.’ He swallowed. Telling the full story was out of the question. Harper knew he would have to lie, exaggerate his condition and come up with a convincing-enough story. Which was just what Tony Wright was probably expecting him to do anyway.

‘So, what’s actually wrong with you then?’

‘Well… mostly just moving. Walking across the room is hard enough and I can only do most things one-handed at the moment. It’s going to take a while for the bruising to go down. I think I’m going to be out of action for at least the rest of this week. I’ll have to see what the doctor says.’

‘Yeah? Well if you get signed off, I’ll want to see a sick note.’ Tony paused. ‘It’s a bloody nuisance, Harper. One down is bad enough but I’ve got another gone AWOL now. Louise didn’t turn up this morning and she was supposed to be on the early shift. I haven’t managed to get hold of her at all and now you’re telling me you could be off for days. I’ve got a paper to get out and only half a team of reporters.’

Harper nodded. He knew about staffing problems. In these days of constant cost-cutting — imposed by accountants who had no idea how newspapers worked — the numbers of reporters always seemed to be at a bare minimum. It was a circle he had been continually trying to square while in charge. ‘Could you get someone in from one of the districts for a couple of days.’

‘Like who?’

‘One of the trainees. I know Jo’s keen to get…’

‘Who?’

Harper closed his eyes. He had not been thinking. The trainees placed in the paper’s outlying offices were a recent innovation. They had been brought in as a cheap way of shoring up the often forgotten district editions: something he had instigated only a few months earlier.

‘Ah… sorry,’ he said floundering, ‘I was thinking of someone I used to know worked in a district office on my last paper…’

‘Hmm.’ Tony sounded uncertain. ‘Yeah, well, don’t worry about it. That’s my problem not yours, mate. I’ll sort something out. Meantime, I want you fit and back in here as soon as. Get yourself to the doctor and get sorted out Harper. You don’t sound quite right.’

By early afternoon Harper was walking along by the river. He stopped near Swan Reach, a little way upstream of Westcote House where Rebecca worked. He would have liked to go by and look up at her office but he did not want to get spotted and have her think he was stalking her.

She had left him at the White Lion last night. The conversation had been disturbing for both but worse for her. In effect, Harper had attempted to do what had already happened to him: turn her life upside down. When Rebecca left she was clearly upset but Harper was unable to do anything to comfort her; that would have been too much, too soon.

He knew he could hardly expect her to just accept his story. But his consolation was that she did not just reject his claims out of hand either. His story made no sense to her but, equally, he knew things she could not explain. Rebecca had left saying she needed time to think but Harper managed to extract a cautious promise she would speak to him again soon. A defined time would have suited him better but soon was better than nothing.

Wednesday, 1.23pm:

The two women stood by the railings in silence. They stared into each other’s eyes: comparing emotions, weighing reactions. They stood still, the intensity of their deliberation leaving them oblivious to the cold. Other lunchtime pedestrians flowed by in two fast-moving counter currents: eager to keep moving and stay warm. Like them, most were office dwellers released for an hour to float and eddy around before being sucked back into their workplaces. But the two women remained in one spot, anchored to the metal palisade separating them from the actual river: its brown skin moving with gathering pace as the tide slackened and water began to slip back down towards the estuary.

In many ways they made an odd couple. Sarah Young was the light to her friend’s darkness. Although Rebecca had her mother’s English skin, she had inherited her father’s dark eyes and black hair. She was tall for a woman and verged on thin rather than slim. Even in summer, there tended to be a wintry cool to her look. Sarah was summer through and through; bright and blonde, she moved through life with a glow. Emotionally, they were also mismatched. Rebecca often came across as cool and withdrawn, although her manner was more often shyness than lack of passion. The spark within her was strong but her wit tended towards the dryer end of the spectrum. Sarah was more earthy, impetuous but stubborn. One day she would seize on ideas and worry them to death, other times her opinion would flip: a trait that infuriated Rebecca with her more logical, methodical and, ultimately, trusting approach.

Sarah scowled. ‘No. I’m sorry but that’s completely mad. He must be a nutter, some kind of obsessive.’ She shook her head emphatically. ‘You need to be really careful. I don’t think you should have anything to do with him. Nada. And get a restraining order if he starts pestering you.’

Rebecca shook her head. ‘It’s not that simple.’

‘Why?’

‘Well…’

‘The whole thing’s loco,’ said Sarah. ‘Although there’s one thing I don’t understand.’

‘What?’

‘Why didn’t he come up with a better story? The whole thing is just too ridiculous. I mean, please: “I knew you in another life and we really need to be together.” Come on! That’s straight out of la-la land.’

Rebecca smiled despite herself.

Sarah looked cross: the pink colour rising in her cheeks due to more than just the low temperature. ‘I’m serious. Think about it! Like, he’s been living this other existence where you and him are playing happy couples and now he wants it back? I mean, get real. It might be sweet if it wasn’t so damn scary. He’s a psycho, got to be. Either that or several sandwiches short of a picnic.’

Rebecca sighed. ‘That’s what I thought to begin with but when I actually listened to what he had to say…’

‘Okay.’ Sarah waved a hand to cut her off. ‘So he’s a convincing psycho. All the best nutters are like that.’ She shrugged. ‘Who knows? Maybe he believes it himself. Maybe he did have an accident and something happened to his memory. What’s real has got muddled up with some secret fantasy and now he thinks the fantasy is true. Trouble is, reality doesn’t match up with his fantasy so he’s come up with this weird explanation to try and explain what’s going on.’

Sarah put her hand on Rebecca’s arm. Her blue eyes looked uneasy. ‘I just don’t like it. If he is disturbed, what happens next? He’ll soon find out that reality can never match his fantasy. You said he thought he should have been boss or something at the paper. He can’t wish that into happening too. How’s his mind going to cope when things don’t work out? Next thing he’ll be trying to talk you into a joint suicide pact so you can go and reclaim your lost lives in another universe.’

Rebecca looked shocked. ‘It wasn’t like that at all.’

‘Oh no, probably not. But like I said; if he is deluded then maybe he really believes it himself. That’s what will make him all the more convincing. Or maybe he’s just some kind of sick conman. Maybe it’s a really clever play to hook you. All the best conmen start off subtle. They suck you in and get you believing in their little schemes. Then, before you know it, you’ve signed up to the programme and you’re trapped.’

Rebecca shook her head again. She felt frustrated. Sarah’s response was hardly unreasonable but it failed to resolve her confusion. She was unsure what she wanted to hear but sensed the conversation had gone off on the wrong tangent before she had given the full story.

She ran a hand through her hair, wrapping a strand around one finger and sighed. ‘Look, I’m not trapped. All I’ve done so far is agree to speak to him again when I’ve had time to think about it. Anyway, there’s more to it than that.’

‘Oh, come on!’ Sarah rolled her eyes, butting in before Rebecca had finished her final sentence. ‘I think you’ve had plenty of time to think about it,’ she insisted. ‘And the answer should be no. I don’t think you should have anything to do with him ever again but if you’ve really got to then call him and tell him you’re not interested. Do it now and get it over and done with.’

‘But Sarah…’

‘But what?’

‘There’s more to it.’ Rebecca’s voice rose. She caught Sarah’s eyes and the her friend’s eyebrows rose in sardonic show of tolerance: every inch the disbelieving parent waiting for a child’s promised revelation she had no expectation of ever seeing arrive.

Rebecca shrugged awkwardly, speaking quickly to hold the upper ground. ‘It’s not just that he came up with this story about us being engaged and everything. If it had just been that I’d have been out of there in a flash. But he knew all these things about me. Stuff he shouldn’t have known.’

Sarah shrugged. ‘So like I said, he’s a stalker. He’s been doing his research.’

Rebecca gave a little shake of her head, embarrassed. ‘But he knew things I’ve never told anyone Not even you.’

For the first time, Sarah looked hesitant. ‘What kind of things?’

‘Personal stuff.’

‘Like?’

‘Well.’ Rebecca flushed slightly. ‘Like how I lost my virginity.’

They continued slowly along the riverbank, following the wintry flow downstream, both deep in thought. As the turning tide let the river level drop, it exposed the tops of glistening mud banks. A pair of black-headed gulls bobbed up and down near the water’s edge and a small flock of dunlins ran and bobbed along the shoreline.

Rebecca glanced around anxiously, hoping not to meet anyone else from the office. She had not slept much the night before and when the morning finally arrived her mind was in too much turmoil for her to be able to contemplate a day in the office.

She called in sick first thing then contacted Sarah by text to arrange a lunchtime meet. Rebecca did not want to deal with what she had learnt the previous evening on her own. She needed help and, although she knew that in some ways Sarah was not the most dispassionate advisor, she had been Rebecca’s most loyal friend for many years.

As they continued downriver, a lone swan glided by, wings held like rigid sails, head poised as if aloof of the human life on the bank. Sarah watched it go. ‘Gorgeous things aren’t they.’

It was the first she had said in several minutes. Rebecca nodded mutely in response; yet again her mind had been turning over Harper’s unexplained and unnerving knowledge, trying to seek some rational explanation.

‘So why does everyone call him Harper then?’ said Sarah abruptly. ‘Not Daniel or Danny? It makes him sound like some kind of public schoolboy.’

‘Huh?’ Rebecca was thrown by the question. ‘I… no idea. We didn’t really get into anything like that. I wasn’t actually there for that long. He told me his story and that was pretty much it. When I first realised he was the reason I was there I was dreading it. After what had happened in the street the night before I thought he was just going to be some kind of oddball. But then after I’d listened to what he had to say I was pretty stunned. I couldn’t really think of anything else. And then I left. I needed time to think about what he was saying.’

‘No. I’m sorry,’ said Sarah. She shook her head stubbornly. ‘It’s just too weird. It’s like he’s come out of the Twilight Zone or something.’

Rebecca shrugged awkwardly. ‘Yes but the thing is he’s not like that.’

She saw the look on Sarah’s face. ‘Well, he doesn’t come across like that. He seemed normal. Just… really cut up. He seemed like he was really upset. That was what made him so convincing. It was like he loved me desperately and had only just really found out how much when I was taken away from him. I didn’t get the feeling he wanted anything weird out of me. He just wanted me.’

‘And he knew all this stuff.’

‘Yes. Stuff I can’t explain. I don’t see how he could have found out.’

‘There’s no way?’

‘No. I don’t know. No.’

Sarah pursed her lips. ‘So, this guy: this friend of your dad’s. Who else knew about it apart from the two of you?’

‘I’m not sure anyone did. I never told anyone. I never even told Fergus.’

‘You sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘Never? Not even when you were having a late-night heart-to-heart? Maybe after you’d had a few too many drinks. The kind of conversation you forget the next day.’

‘No.’ Rebecca shook her head. ‘I don’t get so drunk I forget what I’m saying.’

Sarah’s eyebrows rose. ‘You sure?’

‘Yes! Of course. Well…’ She looked a little less certain when she saw Sarah’s face and shrugged awkwardly. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘What about that time we went to the Blink launch party and cleared up all that champagne? You remember confessing you’d once had a crush on Tony?’

‘Did I?’ Rebecca went red. ‘No. I didn’t. Did I?’

Sarah gave her a look. ‘No, actually you didn’t. That was at last year’s Christmas party.’

‘Oh god. That’s terrible.’ Rebecca looked confused.  ‘But that doesn’t prove anything. Even supposing you’re right and maybe I did tell Fergus about Martin, how would someone like Harper find out? You didn’t know and if anyone was going to know it would have been you. Fergus would have been about the only other possibility and he’s not from here. I knew him in Edinburgh six years ago. Last I heard he was living in Australia with that woman.’

Sarah sighed. ‘I don’t know. That’s what’s bugging me. But there must be all kind of possibilities. Maybe you did tell Fergus about it, or you let something slip and he put two and two together. Maybe he met Harper somewhere and they got talking. Or maybe Harper met this man, Martin. Maybe they were drinking in a pub or something and Martin started boasting to Harper about this young girl he got into bed once.’

Rebecca looked uncomfortable. ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t.’

But her tone was unconvincing and both women knew that she did not really know. It was an improbable scenario but not impossible.

Sarah took her arm. ‘Okay, girlie. Well, let’s look at it another way. Just forgetting all the weirdness for a minute, supposing you had just met him somewhere ordinary: what do you think? Would he be a contender? Do you think you could see yourself with him?’

Rebecca gave a wry smile. ‘Well, that’s one of the other strange things. You see, he said we’d met at this party three years ago. It was the paper’s big Christmas party and Tony took me along. And the thing is, that part is true. I did go to the party with Tony and I remember meeting him.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. We even spoke for a few minutes. I think that’s how come I remembered him when he came up to me in the street.’

‘And?’

Rebecca shook her head. ‘He was already drunk. It was only early but he was already well on the way. We chatted for a bit and I think he might even have been trying to chat me up; he was certainly flirting. But… I don’t know…’

She sighed. ‘He was alright but he was just another drunk at a party. I wasn’t in the mood for that. I wanted to have a good time, not get cornered by the first guy to overdo it on the free bar. I don’t really remember but I think I just made my excuses and left him to it. He might have fancied me but he can’t have been that serious; he didn’t leave the bar to come after me.’

She stopped and turned to face Sarah. ‘But the thing is, when I saw him last night he was different.’

‘What, loopier?’

‘No!’

‘Sober?’

‘No. Well, yes, but that’s not it.’ Rebecca waved her hands in the air with frustration, unsure how to express something she did not really understand herself. ‘He seemed more… I don’t know… sincere somehow. He was sober and he was messed up but he was also serious. I didn’t get the feeling he was messing around. I think he really believed what he was telling me and it was weird but somehow it was kind of believable too. It wasn’t like I took one look at him and thought ‘no way’. That’s one of the things that’s been really bothering me. I think that if I had met him under different circumstances, or even if it had been later that same night, something might have happened. What he was telling me might have been possible.’

Sarah looked uncertain. ‘Maybe.’ She sighed and took Rebecca’s hands, squeezing them in hers. She looked sad. ‘There is one other possibility.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Well, maybe when you met him at the party, that’s when it happened. Maybe he was drunk but he fell in love with you and then you went off. He might have been obsessing about you ever since. Maybe he’s built all his fantasies on that meeting, thinking what might have happened if it had gone differently.’