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“Very expensive wood, that is.” He whips out his mobile phone and starts snapping. I knew it. “Just a few shots for Instagram.”
I leave him in his glory and browse around. The smell of food wafting from the nearby restaurant reminds me that it’s lunchtime. It’s almost ten past one and, having missed breakfast, I’m starting to feel lightheaded.
“So, come on, then.” I pull him away from the table and hurry him towards the field, arm threaded through his. “What is it that you feel when you have these out of body experiences?” I glance at a man approaching. He smiles at us as he warns his little girls not to step in the puddle. I suppose we look like a normal, happy couple to onlookers, enjoying the autumnal afternoon.
“It happens when I’m just nodding off or waking up,” he begins as the little girls squeal happily in the distance. “I get this vibration running through my body and then I’m awake but I just feel paralysed. I can hear everything that’s happening around me. The sound of traffic outside, the TV, Ronan wandering around opening and closing doors but I can’t move or speak.” I feel a sudden surge at the mention of Ronan’s name. I still haven’t spoken to him since that day. “Then I leap out of my body,” he goes on, “glide towards the ceiling, spin around and watch myself sleeping.”
“That sounds very scary!” I carefully curl my hair behind my ears. “What happens next?”
“After a while, I feel myself descending towards my body,” he says excitedly, pleased that I’m showing an interest, “then there’s the sound of my heartbeat as my soul slides through my skin and syncs with my body, and then the breath of life.” He stares into the distance, lips slightly parted, spellbound. “And then I open my eyes.”
“Jesus, Nick, where’s all this coming from?” I grin at him, shaking my head. “Come on, spill. What is it, a chapter out of the latest James Herbert novel?”
“No!”
“Stephen King?”
“No, it’s all true. And stop taking the piss, will you.” He sounds annoyed. “I’m NOT winding you up. This means a lot to me. I’m a changed man.” He gives me a sideward glance. “I’m having more and more telepathic incidences as well.”
“What, you mean like when you dream of someone and then see them the next day, think about them and they call?”
“Yes, but mine are more profound.” He drags his top lip between his teeth. “I told you all about my dream premonitions, didn’t I?” I nod. “There’s no way a scientist can explain that away, is there? I had one about you a few days ago.” Right, he’s really starting to creep me out now. “Do you want to know what it was about?”
“Go on then,” I groan, humouring him.
“I saw you holding a gold coin in the palm of your hand. You looked, I dunno, it was kind of weird.” He stops and inclines his head thoughtfully, gazing at the trees ahead, “I’m not sure if you were indecisive or upset, anyway.” We start walking again. “Then I saw a flash of you losing the coin, a splash, a well of water. This is going to sound really weird, but you were crying on a toilet seat. Does that make any sense?”
“No, it doesn’t! I don’t usually cry on toilet seats,” I laugh. “What happens to me next?”
“Nothing. I didn’t see anything else. I’m not a bloody clairvoyant you know. But similar dreams I’ve had have come true so…”
“Well,” I mutter, unconvinced, “sounds like another loss on the lottery for me tonight, then. The bathroom needs a clean too, that usually reduces me to tears, and MetOffice predict rain this evening.” He knows that I play the lottery every week, he just dreamt of me buying a ticket and losing, as usual, the doughnut.
“No, no…you weren’t even in this country. You seemed far away, somewhere warm and sunny.”
Well, that’s not going to happen for a start off. “There’s no way I’m going on any more trips this year. I’ve taken all my leave.”
“Ha, that’s what you think, you just wait and see. I’m never wrong.”
I bow my head, cover my mouth and try to suppress a giggle as he continues with his dream premonitions.
“Er, are you laughing at me?” He pulls my hand away from my mouth. “You are, aren’t you?”
I try to cover my lips but he’s too strong, he pulls my arms away, then starts tickling me. “Okay, okay, stop! I believe you!”
“Well, you can scoff all you like,” he says, raking a hand through his hair, catching his breath. “I know what I saw. Here.” He gestures at a bench, “Let’s sit for a while.” He slides a cigarette out of the packet and lights up. “Everything’s changed now. My outlook, my values.” He blows a cloud of smoke into the air and stares at it forlornly. “I wish I could turn the clock back.” He reaches for my hand, his touch is electric. “I miss you.”
“Nick,” I warn, pulling my mac around me.
He clicks his tongue. “I know, I’m sorry.”
I stare into the distance. A dad is kicking a football around with his two young children – a boy and a girl. They’ve used their bikes as goalposts. Dad used to take me and George to the park for a kick-about when we were kids. I’d score most of the goals, of course, George was useless at sports, and then he’d throw a tantrum. I can just see him now, throwing himself onto the grass and screaming at the top of his lungs. Sometimes, when I was in a good mood, I’d let him win, just to keep the peace.
“Well, I’m glad you’ve told me all this, thanks for keeping me in the loop.” I lean forward and look at my watch. My stomach is rumbling. Dinner at Mum’s isn’t for hours yet. I really ought to eat something before I pass out. “And good luck with the neurologist. Text me, let me know how it goes.”
“Actually, there is something else.”
“Oh?” I say.
