There were more doors leading off this room.
I chose one with another staircase. Up and up, trying each door as I went. One room was different from the others. There was a wooden walkway across, suspended above a stone floor that dropped away on both sides, with odd ridges sticking up. Took me a while to realize why it looked like the negative of the roof downstairs. That’s exactly what it was – the other side of the fan shapes in the abbey ceiling. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing up – I felt like I was in a secret world.
Another door at the end of the walkway. This one revealed a tiny room, a dead end. The far wall contained a big, round white disc, lit up by the soft streetlight. There were markings ’round the edge and two sticks – a clock’s hands. I was behind the clock on the abbey tower. There were stone ledges running along either sidewall. I sat down on one, keeping my face turned to the clock – it made me smile; I’ve never been anywhere so weird. It was like sitting inside the moon. Then one of the metal rods feeding into it clicked, and the minute hand shifted forward. Another minute gone, and, with a wrench to my guts, Spider was back in my head.
All over the world, clocks were marking each second, minute, and hour. On and on. Thousands, maybe millions of clocks. If I’d had a brick in hand, I’d have launched it right through the round white clock face, sending the glass spraying out into the night. I’d smash every watch, every clock in the world. But would it do any good? Don’t shoot the messenger, that’s what they say, isn’t it?
And sitting there, it came to me: I was blaming the wrong thing. I was looking outside, when anyone could see that there was someone at the middle of all this. Me. I was the only one to see the numbers. I saw something that no one else saw. My eyes, my mind, me. Whether they were real or imagined, the numbers were me and I was them.
Without me, would they even exist?
The lever running along the wall gave another lurch and the minute hand thunked forward again. Suddenly, I had to get out of there. The room would suffocate me if I stayed a minute longer. I sprang up and started running, across the walkway, back to the stairs, and then on and up, blindly, to the top.
Although it was cold on the staircase, the iciness of the open air was a shock again. There was nothing up there, just a flat roof and an empty flagpole. Another stone wall ran ’round the edge. The view was even better up here – the orange lights of the town sprawling up into hills all around. There was a swimming pool on one of the roofs, turquoise water lit from below. And immediately below me, another pool, square and green, with statues ’round the edge and steam gently rising up from it. From here, it felt like you could dive off the tower right into it. You could dive down and wipe it all away: the memories, the pain, the guilt. All you’d need to do was climb up on the little wall and jump…
From far down below, a voice drifted up to me. “There she is!”
In the abbey yard, floodlit faces were turned upward now. This far away, they all looked the same, a crowd of puppets. And it struck me, they weren’t tourists down there, they were actually waiting to see
Someone screamed, their terror drifting up to me a split second after it had left them, infecting me, suddenly making me afraid. The ground below seemed to be moving, the people merging into a random pattern, swimming and shifting in front of my eyes.
My legs gave way and I sank down. Who was I kidding? I couldn’t jump off there – my strength and my nerve had gone. My legs were so wobbly now, I couldn’t even manage the stairs. So I bumped down them on my butt, one at a time. I’ve no idea how long it took – I didn’t lock the door behind me, just bumped and crawled my way all the way down into the abbey and then across the cold floor into the vestry.
I curled up in my makeshift bed, next to Karen, and shut my eyes tightly, but the numbers were still there: Mum’s, Karen’s, the old tramp’s, the bomb victims’.
And Spider’s.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“It’s all right, Jem. It’s only us. Simon and me.”
I swam up to the surface again, through the green, green water of sleep toward the light. A woman’s voice was speaking to me, and from somewhere a long way away my memory started to put the pieces back together. I sat up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, swallowing back the sour stuff at the back of my throat. Anne was over by the table, and Karen was already up.
“I’ve brought some juice,” said Anne. “Shall I put on the kettle as well? You and Karen can have a cup of tea. Simon, would you like one?”
There was a shakiness in her voice that I couldn’t put my finger on. She was trying to sound normal, say normal things, but the tremor in her voice made her sound afraid. What was she afraid of?
I felt embarrassed, these people seeing me in bed, at a disadvantage. I swung my legs out onto the floor and heaved myself to my feet. Just for a moment, it went red and then black behind my eyes, and I clutched the edge of the table to stop myself from falling.
“Stood up a bit quickly?” Anne had her arm half around me, supporting me, although she held me away from her body. I got the feeling that if she could have used tongs, she would have. “Sit down here, that’s it. You don’t look like you’ve been eating much. Try a bit of toast. Here.” She unwrapped a foil parcel.
There was a little pile of toast inside, cut into triangles. I couldn’t do it, couldn’t eat any – it actually turned my stomach to look at it. I’d only just woken up. I brought the edges of the foil together, hiding its contents away again.
“Um, I’m not hungry yet. Maybe in a bit.”
“Have some tea, then. Here we are.” She put four mugs down on the table and joined Karen and me.
Simon stayed standing. He was paler than ever, and seemed intent on hovering there. He kept licking his lips, frowning. Finally, he came out with it.
“You were seen last night, Jem. On the tower.”
“You what?” spluttered Karen.
“Jem was out there on the roof, on top of the tower. She must have taken the keys. It was a very dangerous thing to do – to go up there on your own. Questions are being asked. Stephen will be in shortly.”
“When was this?” Karen asked.
I sighed. “When you’d gone to sleep. I couldn’t get comfortable. Too many things to think about, so I took a look around. Haven’t you ever wandered about here on your own?” This to Simon.
“Yes, of course,” he said, “but that’s different. You’re still a child, and I’m an adult, I’m…responsible.” Standing there, shifting his weight from foot to foot and wringing his hands, it was difficult to imagine anyone his age looking more innocent or vulnerable.
I liked him, I really did, but there was something about that word –
His pale blue eyes widened with the shock of being laughed at and then brimmed with tears. What was I doing? This was the guy who rescued me, the one who gave me sanctuary just in the nick of time.
“Sorry,” I said quickly, “I didn’t mean to laugh. And I shouldn’t have used those keys. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” He was watching me carefully, blinking back the hurt I’d caused. “Simon, you’ve been really kind to me. I’d be completely in the shit without you.” He winced, but kept looking. “I couldn’t help exploring last night. It’s an amazing place.”
His face softened. “Yes,” he said. “It is.” He picked up the keys, which were lying on the table. “I’ll go and check that everything’s locked up and get things ready.” He scuttled out, while Anne poured more tea.
“The police will be back soon,” she said. “You should eat something…”
I stayed quiet, folding the top of the foil over, sealing the parcel of toast. I wanted to tell her to leave me alone, I’d eat if I felt like it, but a little voice inside me was telling me to shut up, that she was trying to be kind. So I said nothing, which for me was a big deal. Anne probably just thought I was rude. I glanced up at her, and she was standing there, looking hurt, too, like I’d rejected her or something. For Christ’s sake, it was only a piece of toast.
There was something else, though. It was the first time our eyes had actually met, and though I tried to ignore
