Chapter 27

The girls found their way to the hotel in Folkestone as it got dark. They had both got a bottle of a brightly coloured vodka-based drink from the bar to take to their room and they now reclined on the twin beds vegetating. Both were fixated upon their smartphones.

'Hey,' said Donna, 'Henry Slazenger is coming to the Seacliff Theatre in Chatford. Do you fancy coming?'

'Er, let me think about it,' was the less than enthusiastic reply, ''I'm not really a fan to be honest.'

'I know but it will be a girls' night out. Maybe we can go clubbing afterwards.'

'Thinking time?' implored Steph. Perhaps it was a bit ambitious of Donna to think that the lure of nightclubbing would work on her friend again like it had when she'd suggested this short break in Folkestone. Donna was somewhat relieved when Steph added, 'I'm a bit tired after today. What do think about skipping the club and just having a few drinks in our room?'

'OK. As long as I get to have a wander round tomorrow, I don't mind what we do.'

'Sure,' replied Steph, 'We're gonna live it tomorrow. Drinks are gonna flow and the young men of Folkestone better be ready for us.'

Donna smiled. 'Ever the hell-raiser!' she joked. Her own aim was more modest, being simply to check out the harbour and compare it with her visions, although the 'Beachy Head' experience already told her that these visions could be pretty accurate.

They spent the evening listening to music on their phones, routinely popping down to the bar every now and then to purchase more drinks. Their conversation consisted of normal teenage chatter about boys and pop music and Donna felt happy that it was still possible to be a normal young woman after all that had happened. The drinks seemed to take the edge off of everything. She could temporarily forget about the silicon chip, the programmer and even the near-suicide of Professor Heathcote. No wonder people got hooked.

The next day Donna awoke at dawn. She took a shower and got dressed while Steph was still comatose. Kneeling down by Steph's bed, she tried to wake her gently, 'Morning Stephanie.'

Steph groaned, 'What time is it?'

'Half six. I'm thinking of going for a walk. It's lovely and sunny. I won't be long.'

'Steph swept the mass of hair from her face, 'My head feels like it's been sliced off with a blunt instrument.'

'There's some ibuprofen in the bathroom,' informed Donna, 'I had a couple earlier. I feel fine now. I think we overdid it a bit.'

'Yeah, I think I'm gonna chuck up,' said Steph.

'Thanks for that info,' laughed Donna.

Once she was outside she relished the freshness of the sea air, as the seagulls squawked overhead. She wandered down an old cobbled street that was lined with arty looking shops and at the bottom she glimpsed the harbour. 'This is it,' she thought, as she crossed the road, approaching the fish stall with trepidation, 'Time to find out what's real and what isn't.'

'The last thing I feel like is fish,' she thought, her stomach still a bit delicate. Her heart jumped as she glimpsed the scene behind the stall, surveying the edge of the square harbour which was deep below her. Just as she'd seen in the vision, there were walls on three sides and a viaduct which ran across the seaward side over a series of arches. People were walking back and forth along this like the figures in an MC Escher painting. It clearly used to carry trains, but now it carried humans and their canine companions. Donna gazed over the harbour wall. The tide was out and the boats were resting on the wet mud. 'I wouldn't fancy trying to walk on that,' she thought to herself.

Presiding over the landward side of the harbour was a white hotel which had the appearance of being like a large ship. Everything was exactly as Donna had envisioned it in the dream, but what did this mean?

She wandered back to the seafood stall and bought a can of Coke. 'This should wake me up a bit,' she mused, still intent upon blitzing the muzzy-headedness brought on by last night's party for two. Swigging from the can, she wandered around to the opposite side of the harbour. There was no sign of a white speedboat, which was just as well. If it had been there she would have felt compelled to explore it and she would have probably ended up being arrested for trespassing.

She walked though the remnants of what was once Folkestone Harbour Railway Station and out onto a jetty with various stalls upon it. At the end was a stone lighthouse which seemed to draw her towards it. Donna breathed in the fresh morning air and stared at the sea for a while, tranquillising her mind by listening to the gentle lapping water and watching the foam disperse against the jetty, with each new wave washing the dark straggly seaweed back and forth. Looking back inland she could see the White Cliffs of Dover to the right and the coast curving away into the distance on the left. She was glad she came. 'Turn left for Eastbourne,' she mused.

The rest of the short break passed without incident, although the conundrum of how she had experienced this place before ever visiting it was never far from her mind. Travelling home on the train she decided to press her friend for an answer about the comedy show.

'So, Henry Slazenger?' she declared.

'Go on then,' answered Steph, 'You've twisted my arm.'

'Yes!' exclaimed Donna, punching the air, 'It's only twenty quid each.'

'That's because he's not funny,' jibed Steph.

'Go on with you,' dismissed Donna, 'I'll book it online when I get home. Girls' night out, remember?'

'Party on, dude,' sighed Steph sarcastically, 'So seriously, Don, what do you think about these chips? Do we go on protesting against them or should we just go with the flow?'

'I'm gonna go with the flow for a bit,' answered Donna, 'This last few days have been weird and I want to know what's going on. I'm going to stay in touch with Professor Heathcote. Maybe he can help me to understand it.'

'His head's shot to bits though,' laughed Steph, 'He tried to top himself!'

'That's true, but if anyone understands this stuff, he does.'

Donna looked out at the sidings and the railway related clutter as the train came into Brenchley. 'Here we are again,' she sighed, looking crestfallen, 'Land of excitement.'

'Come on Don, don't be such a grouch. There's no place like home.'

'I suppose not,' answered Donna, noticing her friend already pulling a cigarette out of her packet to be ignited the moment she got out of the station. 'Now I see why she does it,' she thought to herself, 'Anticlimax relief.'