We got up late and spent the day by the pool, swimming and talking and laughing and doing magic. Mum and Sean were happily oblivious to our late-night excursion, and I had a new feeling: it was me and Natasha against the world, and my mother, for the first time, was on the outside.
I learned two new tricks: one was a card trick that involved a corner of a queen of hearts that was taped on to a seven of spades, and the other, the one I liked best, just needed what Natasha called her ‘Svengali notebook’.
She demonstrated it to me first: ‘OK,’ she said, holding out a flippy book. She flicked through and showed me that on each page there was the name of a city. I watched New York, Madrid, London, Bogotá, Reykjavík all flick past. ‘See? There are different cities written on each page of this book. You’re going to pick one by sticking your finger in wherever you like, but first I’m going to write down what I think you’re going to pick. Now I’ve got to know you, I have a pretty good idea of where your subconscious will lead you.’
She took a piece of paper, gave it to me to check that it was blank, then turned away to write on it. She folded it up and handed it to me.
‘Don’t look at it. Just look after it so you know there’s no trickery.’ I put it in the back pocket of my shorts. ‘OK. I’m going to flick through the pages and I want you to stick your finger in at a random page. Don’t even look at the pages. Just stick your finger in.’
She flicked through the pages of the book and I stuck my finger in at random. She opened the book and we both looked at what was written there.
‘Paris!’ she said. She paused, smiled a bit, raised her eyebrows. ‘Who would have thought it?’
I took her piece of paper out of my pocket and unfolded it. She had, of course, written Paris on it, with hearts and kisses around it. I looked at her and laughed. That was brilliant.
Then she showed me how it was done. It was a trick notebook, with pages of slightly different lengths, and when she flicked it one way it had all those different cities on the page. When she did it the other way, every single page said Paris. I practised flipping, and I practised the misdirection of turning the viewer’s attention to the fact that I was writing on a blank piece of paper and giving it directly to them to look after, and once I felt happy with it I went to find Sean.
‘This notebook,’ I said, ‘is filled with the names of cities …’
And I did it, and it worked. Sean laughed and laughed and told me to try it on Mum when she got back from yoga. Then he went back to work, and I went back to the pool.
Our secret night out had changed things between Natasha and me. It was easy to be in her company and I felt she saw my real self.
By the time the afternoon shadows grew longer, we were lazy and silly, giggling at nothing and full of sunshine and swimming-pool water. We’d barely seen Mum, and had only seen Sean for the magic trick, and I knew they had no idea that we’d been anywhere last night.
Later than usual, the gates clanked open and Mum came in with her yoga mat under her arm. Her hair had grown since we’d been in Spain and she was frowning and muttering to herself.
‘Hi, Mum!’ I shouted, and I waved at her from the shallow end. She diverted her course and walked down towards us.
‘How was yoga?’ said Natasha.
Mum stepped out of her sandals and sat on the edge of the pool. She dangled her feet into the water and sighed.
‘This pool is bliss,’ she said. ‘It’s not really yoga. It’s more meditative. Now that I understand what they’re saying, I can see that it’s all about September. More than I realized. We work on focusing our energies on making sure we are at peace, and then on keeping the world safe, and then, after that, all the energy will go on healing. No more wars. Stopping climate change. Healing the natural environment. We use our own energy because it’s the most powerful force we have.’ She looked up, defensive. ‘I don’t care if it sounds ridiculous. It works for me. It does no harm.’
Her phone made a sound, and she took it out of her bag, looked at it and closed her eyes for a second, then opened them again. She looked pained, as though she was trying to hide it. She inhaled so sharply that it was almost a sob, and pretended she hadn’t.
‘That’s awesome,’ said Natasha. ‘The power of the mind is an incredible thing.’
I tried to smile and say the right things too, but it was difficult. The idea of my mum attempting to use her mind to stop the thawing permafrost changing the air made me so sad that I wanted to cry. For my whole life I had looked to her for reassurance. Now I felt stronger than she was, and that was weird and wrong. I wanted to hug her and tell her it would all be all right. I felt a sob in my throat, so I dived down and swam a length underwater so no one would see. By the time I resurfaced Mum had gone into the house and I hadn’t shown her my trick, or hugged her, or asked who had messaged her and what they had said.
‘It’s half past five,’ Natasha said. My arms were achey, and I could feel my muscles toning up.
I pulled myself out of the pool and tried not to be sad about Mum and her delusions. The sunlight was golden, the shadows long. The garden here was wild, alive. I could smell it all, the scents of tomatoes and flowers and fruit all mingling together. Everything felt possible at that moment. I felt that the air would always be this pure.
‘You look gorgeous,’ Natasha said. I was suddenly self-conscious in my red and white gingham bikini. I grabbed a towel and wrapped myself up.
‘Thanks,’ I said.
‘I might get my hair bleached. Go blonde, like you,’ she said. ‘When we go to Madrid next. Shall we do that? We could get an early bus into the city one morning. Have a day of fun. We could even try some street magic?’
‘I’d love that,’ I said. ‘But I think I should go dark, like you. You look like a movie star.’ I realized that she looked like Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction, which was an old film that I’d found in our DVD collection and watched in secret a couple of years ago. It was shocking and brilliant. ‘Uma Thurman,’ I added.
‘Are you kidding?’ said Natasha. ‘Uma Thurman must be, like, fifty or something. Oh, you mean Pulp Fiction?’ She ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Yeah, that was cool. I’ll take that. Thanks.’
‘Yep, that. Sorry.’
‘No, that’s great. But you need to stay blonde, Libby. I’m going to change my colour because I think you look gorgeous. You’ve inspired me.’
‘I’ve inspired you?’
‘How about this?’ she said. ‘I’ll go blonde and you go shorter? We can meet in the middle and end up matching?’
I grinned. I felt warm inside.
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘That would be amazing. We’d look like sisters.’
‘Better than that,’ said Natasha. ‘Let’s be twins.’
By the time we’d showered and dressed and dried our hair, and Natasha had done our make-up the same way as before, it was half past six. We found Mum and Sean drinking wine on the terrace, predictably.
‘Hey!’ Mum looked a bit unsure. ‘Hey, look at you two!’
‘Oh my God,’ said Sean.
I frowned at him because he looked genuinely astonished at the way Natasha had transformed me.
‘It’s my doing, I’m afraid,’ said Natasha. ‘I can’t help myself. Libby has such a perfect face, I didn’t mean to treat her like a colouring book. Or one of those plastic heads little girls get to practise on. You know. I do know she’s not that. She’s an amazing human being.’
‘Yes,’ said Mum. ‘Libby – I don’t think you realize how stunning you are, darling. You never have.’
They offered us a glass of wine but I said no and went to get some water. Natasha accepted a glass of red and sipped it while looking sophisticated. I was trying to imagine her blonde. I touched the rope of my own hair. I imagined reaching for it and finding nothing there. The two of us matching. As she had said: twins.
‘Show your mum that magic trick,’ said Sean when I sat back down with my drink. I found the notebook and did the trick. This time I downloaded a photo of the Eiffel Tower, wrote PARIS over it in wobbly phone drawing, and messaged it to her before I started.
‘Don’t look at your phone,’ I said. ‘Not until I tell you to.’ I showed her the names of all the cities, then flicked through the book the other way and got her to stick her finger in.
‘Paris,’ she said, and then checked her phone. She was delighted, although I noticed that she pressed a few other things on her phone screen and winced. There was something else going on with her.
Sean asked how we did the trick, and we refused to tell him. It was our secret.
‘How do you know all this stuff, Natasha?’ said Mum.
She shrugged. ‘A bit of street magic can get you out of a tight spot.’
I opened my mouth to ask her for stories, but then closed it. I was scared to ask Natasha too much about herself, because I knew she was grieving and I didn’t want to poke at it.
‘Do you girls fancy a walk down to the bar?’ said Sean. ‘We thought it might be a good thing to do, you know? Head out for an aperitif? You made no inroads into our booze supplies last night, after all that, so you’re allowed a drink. Not that I’m after pushing the alcohol on you now, you understand. Have an ice cream if you prefer.’
I saw him stroke Mum’s arm and give her a questioning look. I saw her mouth, Later.
We ended up at the same bar as last night. I asked for a Coke, Natasha for a beer, and Mum said she’d have a glass of white wine. Sean went in to buy them.
‘It’s nice here, isn’t it?’ said Mum, looking around. I could see that she was upset about something, and I decided we ought to give her some space to talk it through with Sean. She clearly didn’t want to share it with me.
‘It’s great,’ said Natasha. I just nodded.
‘So,’ said Sean once he’d given us all our drinks and put a bowl of peanuts on the table. ‘Drinks for the ladies.’
‘Thanks,’ I said. He handed Natasha one of those massive beers, and she mimed astonishment.
‘Wow,’ said Natasha with a big smile. ‘I wasn’t expecting that. Thanks, Sean.’ I watched her pick up a peanut. Her fingernails were short but perfectly shaped and painted the palest of pinks.
‘So,’ said Mum, transparently making an effort to focus on us. ‘Natasha, you didn’t know anything about us – about Libby – until Andy died?’
‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘I knew he was from Britain, of course. He sounded almost as British as you guys do. More so than you,’ she said with a nod to Sean. ‘But he said he was an only child, and that his parents were dead. I had no idea he had a brother, and I didn’t realize my grandparents had still been alive until recently.’
‘That must have been a terrible thing,’ said Sean. ‘The accident.’ I wondered how it was so easy for him to talk about it, and so hard for me. I had been wanting to ask her, but the question had felt too intrusive. I had been scared to say it. But actually it was easy. Sean had just done it.
‘Yep,’ said Natasha. She closed her eyes for a moment and then forced a smile.
Everyone was silent for a few seconds. I could only hear the crunch of some footsteps across the stony ground.
‘I can’t even imagine,’ I said after a bit.
‘I know.’ She was looking at the table, blinking. For a minute or two all her bravado was gone. ‘No time to prepare. No time for anything. He was there, and then he wasn’t. It’s the worst thing. Your life is one thing, and then it’s another, and no amount of wishing can bring it back and make it happen differently. Mom and I didn’t even know he was out in the car, and that’s because he was with … someone he shouldn’t have been with. A woman. I hate her. I hate her more than anyone else in the world. I can’t even say her name I hate her so much.’
‘Oh God,’ said Mum. ‘I’m so sorry. No wonder your mother’s found it difficult.’
‘I know. I feel bad for leaving Mom behind, but honestly she’s in the best place, and seeing me doesn’t do her any good. It makes her worse. She’s on some … heavy treatments.’ She paused and did some deep breathing. ‘But I don’t really like to talk about it unless I have to. Libby, you’ve been very sweet at not asking. I’ve spoken to Dad about it and he’s truly, truly sorry. He wants to make it better with Mom, but she won’t let him. She’s fighting him in her head all the time and that’s why she’s ended up … where she has. Medicated. So now he just talks to me. That’s another of the reasons why I’m here. Staying at home with his voice in my head was going to send me over the edge too.’
I reached for her under the table. She gripped my hand tightly.
‘It’s a terrible thing, Natasha,’ said Sean. ‘And you’re coping well.’
‘Yeah,’ said Natasha, and she sighed. ‘I look like I am, but I just can’t stay still or it’ll overwhelm me. I mean, what the hell was he doing? Driving too fast at night under the influence of alcohol and his trashy girlfriend. When someone’s there, and then not … I’ll have to live with that forever. However long that turns out to be. And she just got to get up and walk away.’
We sat in silence for a while. After a bit Natasha put a big smile on her face and said, ‘Sorry! Aunt Amy? Did you meet him? Long ago?’
Mum was so nervous that I was alert. There was something else that was strange here. ‘No,’ she said. ‘He was already settled in the States with Peggy by the time I met Ben. It’s such a waste of time. You girls could have known each other all your lives.’
‘Oh,’ said Natasha. ‘Yes. Wouldn’t that have been incredible? And I would so love for you to have met him. It would have meant I could talk to you about him and you’d have him in your memories too. He’s with me all the time anyway.’
‘Yes,’ said Mum. ‘So you said.’ Her tone was sharper than it should have been.
‘Mum!’ I said.
‘Aunt Amy?’ said Natasha.
‘Please don’t call me that. It makes me feel so old. You can just call me Amy.’
‘Oh, OK. I thought “aunt” was a kind of respectful thing. Well, OK then. Amy?’
Mum forced a smile. ‘Yes, Natasha?’
‘I’m kind of wishing I hadn’t said that I speak to my dad in the spirit world. I can see that you don’t believe me and it makes you uncomfortable, even though you’re so spiritual yourself. And you, Sean. You don’t believe in it at all, do you?’
‘I think it’s a crock of shit,’ said Sean.
‘Exactly. Amy, your focus is different. We all believe in our own impossible things. Well, apart from Sean. So. You probably won’t like this, which is why I haven’t said it before, but there’s something I have to ask you.’ She took a deep breath. ‘After that we don’t need to talk about this again.’
A car went past along the road at the top of the square. Everything else was suspended.
‘Go on,’ said Mum. ‘What is it?’
‘I am psychic. I know I do card tricks and coin tricks and street magic, and that’s a different thing. The thing with the notebook, all that. That’s entertainment. Obviously it’s just tricks. But the psychic thing is a connection in my mind to spirits in a different realm. They’re here, on this planet, but in a place we can’t see or feel, and if the Creep does happen, every one of us will be crossing over to where they are. Occasionally a door opens between the worlds, and I’ve got one of them. I can’t tell you how that works, but it does.
‘So. Since I’ve been here I’ve had a barrage of messages that I didn’t understand or want, coming from over there.’ She paused, sipped her drink. I flicked my eyes over to Mum. She was pale. ‘They’re from a girl called Violet,’ said Natasha. ‘She wants to talk to you. She’s bothering me non-stop – I wouldn’t have mentioned it otherwise. I just … feel that I need to pass it on.’
The words hung in the warm evening air. Mum was staring at Natasha, who was meeting her gaze. Sean was looking at the table, his face pained. I’d never heard Mum mention anyone called Violet. Natasha had told me about the woman in London, who was called Violet; that was where I’d heard the name recently. But this was something different.
It was Mum’s reaction that was giving this question traction. She could have scoffed and it would have gone away. I was amazed that she hadn’t.
‘What,’ said Mum, ‘do you mean? What do you mean by that, Natasha? What the hell are you saying?’ Her voice was quiet and deadly.
‘Just that.’ Natasha held Mum’s gaze. ‘Violet wants to talk to you. She’s coming through in my head really clearly. I’ve been blocking it out for the past two days. I have no idea who she is, but she is absolutely lovely. Such a gorgeous spirit.’
‘I don’t know what you think you know,’ Mum said, ‘but I can see what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to work. Stop it. You’ve got it all wrong.’
Natasha nodded. ‘I understand.’
‘You don’t.’
‘She was very young.’
‘Natasha!’
‘She wants me to say –’
‘Stop it!’ Mum shouted it, and everyone in the dusty square looked over at us.
Mum stood up. Sean stood with her. My eyes met his and I could see that he knew something I didn’t.
He put a hand on her arm. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Come on. There’s no point worrying about this because what Natasha says is, as I said, a crock of shit.’ He pushed Mum down gently, and she sat back in her chair. When she picked up her glass her hand was shaking.
‘Natasha,’ she said without looking up. ‘Go. Back to the house. Never say that name again. I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work.’
‘Sure.’ Natasha stood up and looked at me, a question on her face.
‘Who’s Violet, though?’ I said to Mum.
‘It doesn’t matter!’ Mum hardly ever raised her voice, but she did now. She was furious and there were tears in her eyes. ‘Go on. Give me some space. Both of you!’
‘Oh, Amy,’ said Natasha. ‘I am so sorry. Of course. I apologize. I apologize for striking a nerve. I hadn’t realized it was a bad thing to say. I’ll tell her to leave us alone.’
‘You know exactly what you’re doing.’ She looked away. Mum never cried but she was crying now.
‘Sorry,’ said Natasha, and she stood up to leave. I stood too. Mum put her arms on the table and her head on her arms. I put a hand on Mum’s back but she shrugged me away.
Natasha and I walked away from the table. Sean ran after us and gave me the key to the house and the fob for the gate.
‘Give your mother some time,’ he said. ‘She’ll be OK. Natasha, your stay here is over. Time to move on, I think.’
We walked back side by side. I didn’t know what to say, and so I didn’t say anything.