inhaler. I stood in the doorway watching for a long difficult moment. Andrea was sitting on the bed, with Primrose cradled in one arm, pillows propped up behind them. Her other hand stroked our daughter comfortingly as Andrea continued to speak in that low, calming voice.
“It was just a nasty old dream, darling,” she was saying. “Nothing’s happened to Daddy, I promise you.”
In her arms, Prim clutched Snowy, her favourite teddy bear whose fur used to be pure white but was now faded to a light yellowish grey. I’d given her Snowy on her third birthday.
“But he didn’t answer the phone, Mummy.” Light glistened off cheeks that were still not dry from earlier tears.
“I know, but it was very late and Daddy has been working very hard. He was probably sound asleep.”
“You tried his mobile too.”
“Yes, but it was switched off.”
“He always keeps it by the bed.”
“The hotel would already have a phone right next to the bed. He wouldn’t need his mobile.”
“Then why didn’t he hear the hotel phone?”
“Because he must be exhausted. You know how hard Daddy is to wake up when he’s been working too hard.”
“But I’m afraid, Mummy.”
“I know, Prim, but there’s no need. I’ll ring again first thing in the morning. You’ll see, he’ll answer it then and wonder what the fuss is about.”
“In the dream he was very lost.”
“You always get anxious when Daddy’s away. Remember when you cried because you thought he’d fallen down some stairs? That was a long time ago, wasn’t it? And when he got home, nothing at all had happened to him, had it?”
I remembered the incident. While it was true that nothing had happened to me physically, it was an afternoon when I’d spontaneously gone out-of-body while sitting at my desk and half-falling asleep. I’d been surprised to find myself in this other realm without any warning and had had no control whatsoever. In the OBE I was at the top of a tall building, standing on the very edge of the roof (it was a familiar building some miles away from my office and I had no idea how I’d got there) and about to take a step forward. Well, whereas if in control I would have glided to a safer place, this time I fell. Really it was no more than what sometimes occurs in a normal dream, where you seem to take a wrong step off a pavement and the sudden jolt wakes you, but in this instance the location was a little more serious. And, as if in a normal dream, I was instantly awake, my whole body no doubt jerking with surprise, and I almost did fall off my chair, but I managed to save myself in time. Fortunately, I was alone in the office I shared with Oliver, or I would have had to endure his laughter and teasing for the rest of the afternoon. My heart was beating a little faster than usual, but otherwise I was okay; it was only later I learned that around the same time—about four in the afternoon—Primrose, who was belted up in the back of Andrea’s little Peugeot on their way home from school, had given a small scream and burst into tears, proclaiming that her daddy had fallen down some stairs and hurt himself.
I hadn’t revealed what had actually happened to me when I got home that evening, because I really didn’t grasp the connection when Prim ran down the hallway to tell me of her outburst and to make sure I wasn’t hurt. I laughed and reassured her that I was fine, there had been no accident earlier, and it was only when I was in bed that night that I related the two incidents. Even so, I dismissed it as coincidence, but now, in the doorway, I began to wonder.
“Can’t you phone again now, Mummy?” Prim was persistent.
“No, darling. Daddy would be cross if we woke him. It’s not long till morning, so we’ll call him together then. Perhaps if his work has gone well he’ll be coming home.” She leaned down to kiss Prim’s freckled nose, then said, “Time for you to go to sleep too. You’ll be in a grumpy state all day if you don’t.”
“Andrea,” I said, stepping further into the room. “I’m here. I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong.”
I don’t know why I made that last remark: maybe I wanted to believe it myself. In fact, I don’t know why I even spoke: previous experience in out-of-body had taught me I couldn’t be heard. Nevertheless, the practice of a lifetime was hard to break. Besides, if my daughter had the insight or intuition to sense something bad had happened to me, then perhaps she might see and hear me now.
“Something’s happened to my body,” I told them both, “but I’m all right. I’m not dead, you must believe me.”
“Come on now.” Andrea eased her arm from Prim’s back and laid the pillows flat. “Lie down and go to sleep.” She bent to kiss the top of Prim’s head then pulled the flower-patterned duvet up to our daughter’s chin. Primrose wasn’t pacified, but she was tired, her eyelids drooping even though she fought to keep them open.
“I won’t sleep, Mummy,” she said.
“Ssssh. You will. Think nice things.”
Prim pulled a disgruntled face, but it was half-hearted, I knew she’d be asleep within moments.
Andrea switched off the bedside lamp before standing, then walked soft-toed to the door. She stepped through to the landing, turned to look back at our child once more, and then half-closed the door behind her. I lingered a while by Prim’s bed and sure enough, she had already fallen asleep. I tried to brush a stray curl from her closed eyes and my fingers made no contact. With a last, regretful stare at her innocent shadowy face, I turned away and followed my wife.
I found her sitting on the edge of our own bed, her eyes fixed on the phone on the small bedside cabinet, one hand resting beside it. Her bedside lamp was switched on. I could tell she wanted to ring the hotel again, her anxiety plain to see but, sensibly enough—although I clenched my fists tightly in anticipation—she let her hand fall away, obviously deciding it was too late to disturb me. She slipped beneath the covers and switched the lamp off.
“No,” I cried, almost in tears. “No, Andrea. Ring the hotel, get someone to check my room. It’s not too late, it can’t be too late!”
I wondered if somehow she could hear my distant voice, because for a moment she rested on one elbow as if still pondering, wondering what she should do. But then, she lay down, one arm above the covers, and closed her eyes. In the pale-orange light from outside I could see the frown that disturbed her features. Soon though, the worry-lines eased and her face was smooth again. Andrea, too, was asleep.
In abject misery, I sank down beside her. I closed my own invisible eyes.
16
It was a strange gagging sound that roused me. I don’t say “woke me up”, because I didn’t know if I’d been sleeping; I didn’t know if it was possible to sleep in my condition (what a joy it would have been if I’d been woken from a nightmare).
I just opened my eyes at the noise and there I was, back in the hotel suite, lying on the bed beside my own butchered carcass. I didn’t have time to consider whether or not some kind of instinct had drawn me back to the site of my own annihilation, an unconscious determination to rejoin my soul’s host while my mind was blanked, because the uniformed waitress with the breakfast trolley was now standing in the doorway staring, gawping at the bloody, chopped thing on the bed with horrified eyes. Her jaw flapped and closed as she tried to summon up a scream.
It finally erupted in a piercingly high-pitched, blood-curdling shriek, which was immediately followed by a series of wheezing staccatos of half-stifled, breath-catching screeches that scared the hell out of me. For a moment I thought she might suffer a seizure and I raised my hands, palms forward, as if to calm her.
She was the same sallow-skinned, dark-haired girl who had brought my breakfast the previous morning. Her instructions were to let herself directly into my bedroom if her knock failed to wake me (my bedroom had two doors, one of which led to the suite’s sitting room, the other out into the hotel corridor. Oliver had a large bedroom on the opposite side of the sitting room). I’d tipped her generously the day before and although she seemed to understand little English, I think she was eager to please me with her efficiency; unfortunately, this morning she got something more than just a tip.
The poor girl, smart in her white shirt, green waistcoat and tight black skirt, fell back against the doorframe and for a second I thought she might pass out. Her pupils rolled back inside her head for a fleeting moment and her whole body swooned, but the doorframe itself kept her upright and she recovered enough to stagger out of sight. I
