TWO

Dani

When I finally leave the building, I feel as though something has been carved out of me. It isn’t just the interview; it’s everything. It seems as though the whole universe has conspired against me over the past year, and it’s now culminated in this one singular, tragic, disaster of a morning.

Does life ever stop feeling like swimming against several different tides?

I notice the old woman still stands to the side of the entrance; her old mug held aloft. I meet her eyes and grimace. “Sorry,” I say. “I don’t have anything more to give.”

The old woman crinkles a smile at me and nods.

I begin making my way down the street, I whip out my phone from the bottom of my new tote-bag and go straight to my group chat.

Drinks?

The response is instant.

Hooks? - TS HOOKS! – ER

Grinning, I drop my phone back into my bag and consider myself lucky that at least my afternoon can go out on a high.

 --

Hooks is a little dive bar that serves great fried chicken, pie, and beer on tap. It’s covered in handwritten notes and has a disgustingly sticky floor. It’s also where Toby and I spent almost every Thursday night during our student years due to how affordable it was and how not-home it was. Then I met Elle in my placement year, and then Elle started coming too.

We usually try to get the circular table on the far-right side of the room, away from the front door and half-hidden by pillars. But tonight, we have to content ourselves with a window seat – bright and on display.

“It can’t have been that bad,” Elle says. “It sounds like you were exactly what they were looking for – and you were so well prepared!”

I take another swig of my beer. “I am exactly what they’re looking for. That’s what kills me. But I dunno, the Managing Editor came in, took one look at me… and I was screwed.”

“How can he not like you?” Elle exclaims. “You make a great first impression!”

I shrug and look to Toby, who has stayed unusually silent during this whole exchange.

“You don’t think he knows Henry, do you?” Toby says thoughtfully. “I mean, it would make sense, right? They all run in the same circles; he might have already given him his version of what happened at Magpie.”

I freeze, my mind shuddering to a halt, then I groan. How did I not think of that? Samwell and Henry look to be roughly the same age; they would definitely have networked with each other at some point over the years. Publishing classes are small, and you learn to keep in contact with your fellow graduates for networking reasons – even if only in passing.

“I’m screwed. I’m never gonna get another job ever again.”

Elle refills my beer. “I’m sure that’s not it. I bet he’s just up himself. He has to be, right? Owner of a company at what – thirty? Thirty-two?” she pauses. “How did he come across?”

“Arrogant,” I say immediately. “The kind of arrogance that’s a side-effect of being handsome.”

Toby grins. “Ah yes, I am familiar with that burden.”

“Shut up,” Elle and I both say.

He grins more broadly and takes a big bite of fried chicken.

“Either way, Dani, regardless of whether you get this job or not, you will be back in publishing. Mark my words.”

Elle raises her glass – as if in salute – and Toby and I do the same.

The afternoon only spirals from there.

Elle and I both worked for Magpie before the big “reshuffle.” And Elle took the opportunity to dive into freelance work. She’s gained a little bit of a reputation as an editor for indie writers, but her office is her house, and her hours are her own. And Toby is the manager of a local CD and record store, so his rota changes regularly and he often has random days off during the week.

Meanwhile, I’ve been unemployed for the last four months. Focusing all my energies on caring for my father and job hunting. Today is the first day since losing my job that I’ve forked out the money for a nurse to stay with my father until the evening.

All to say, that the three of us have absolutely no qualms about getting drunk and lively on a Tuesday afternoon.

One drink flows seamlessly into another as Elle regales us with stories of her dating life and Toby cracks jokes at my and Elle’s expense. For a brief, shimmering moment, everything feels exactly as it should be. As it used to be before the last year knocked me on my arse. Effortless, uncomplicated, fun.

My phone vibrates on the table, and suddenly the world comes crashing back into reality.

Your father is now asleep. He stabilized over the course of the day and ate the dinner you provided. I’ve locked all the doors and left his morning tablets by the fridge.

I reread the text and sigh. It’s become a pattern; he’s at his worst in the mornings and eventually wears himself out…

Thanks Clara, I’ll be home in half an hour.

I sigh, what I wouldn’t give to be able to afford Clara every day.

When I look up from my phone, both Toby and Elle are watching me expectantly.

“I’m sorry guys, but I have to…” I trail off.

Elle waves her hands. “We get it, babe. You gonna make it home okay?”

“Oh yeah, me and the bus against the world!” I look to Toby. “You still popping round tomorrow?”

He nods. “I’ll message when I’m on the way.”

I smile apologetically, gather up my belongings, and brave it outside onto the city streets.

It doesn’t take me long to reach the bus stop, only when I arrive, I see hordes of people gathered around the shelters. Most looking miserable or agitated – it doesn’t take long to figure out why. On the board, almost every bus has been marked as CANCELLED. I look to another woman who shrugs. “Apparently there’s been some big road accident, nothing’s getting through the top road.”

I bite my lip. I don’t want to have to wait hours for the bus, and I expect that taxis will be having the same traffic issue… after considering for a moment, I decide to walk. It’s only a forty-five-minute walk – thirty-five if I push it.

Without giving it any more thought, I wind my way around the crowds and follow the path home until the crowded city streets become less narrow and less crowded.

It’s a nice walk, and it’s good to clear my head. The world is just a little bit off-kilter, but my thoughts are still clear.

Well, clear-ish.

I reach the bridge that passes over the Aden River.The bridge that connects the city of Westleyham to the smaller town of Reeding – my hometown. It’s surprisingly devoid of traffic, and it stretches out before me like a promise. The sun is beginning to set, and the sun scatters its burning reflection over the glassy surface of the water in a way that appears ethereal to me.

That’s when I feel the first cold splash of rain.

It’s slow at first… a gentle drip… one splash after the other. On my cheek, and then my forehead.

Then, the skies open up above me, and the rain hammers down; a viscous, eager thing desperate to submerge me.

I do not have a coat.

And I have long since given up carrying umbrellas with me – having left one too many at the bus stop.

I stand in the middle of the bridge, motionless. I almost want to let the rain drown me – wash me clean and rid me of the events of the day. I look over the bridge’s railings and at the now tumultuous water below.

It’s a fitting end to an already abysmal day.

“Brilliant… just fab,’ I grumble, to myself and the universe at large. ‘How terrible must I have been in a past life, to deserve this kind of luck?” I muse out loud. “I must have killed puppies or stolen from the needy.” I let out a laugh – bitter and cold. For a moment, I simply stand there, relishing the feeling of how my damp clothes now cling to my skin, the way tiny droplets of water cling to my eyelashes.

I stare across the river, it’s the same river the orphanage used to take us to on day trips in the summer. It looks so different at night… almost haunted. I close my eyes and let the sound of the rain and the river below wash over me.

My thoughts flicker to my dad waiting for me in his bed at home. To my mum whose voice now seems but a distant memory. To Henry, who went from being there to simply… not.

When we were kids Toby and I used to make wishes on pennies and throw them into the river. I don’t have any pennies but still…

‘I wish to be loved without condition…’ I whisper into the wind. Not feeling half as foolish as I should – or would if I were sober.

I inhale the scent of the rain – clean and damp and somehow fresh. Then, deciding that the pity party of one needs to end, I open my eyes, turn away from the river and once again face the direction of home.

When I spin around though, I find I am no longer alone on the bridge.

Staring at me, rain-soaked and dishevelled, is the old lady from earlier in the day. Wordlessly, the woman holds out her mug to me.

I blink rapidly; maybe I’m drunker than I thought. Or maybe this is just an incredibly bizarre coincidence.

“I told you earlier,” I say, my words thick in my mouth. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have anything more to give.”

The woman tilts her head to the side, her eyes glittering in the dark. There is something eerily familiar about her…. “There’s always more to give,” she says in a voice that puts me in mind of rough stone.

I shake my head. My head swims, and nothing makes sense. But it can’t be good for this elderly woman to be standing in the rain like this.

“Do you need me to get you some help?” I ask, rooting in my bag for my phone once more. “What’s your name? Maybe I can find someone…” I trail off; the woman has moved closer to me, but I can’t recall her taking a single step.

“Would you like to learn more about yourself, Dani Pierce?” the woman asks, in that same gravelly voice.

“How do you—?”

“Would you like to truly know yourself?” the old lady says.

I look up at the sky; it’s raining so heavily I can’t see the stars. And surely, they should be there now? The night is dark and heavy around me, and I feel so… so lost. I can’t trace that feeling to where it comes from… maybe there’s no beginning to it… maybe that’s simply who I am.

A lost little girl. Wishing for things that can never be hers.

I’m certain I’m dreaming.

I look back to the woman, who is regarding me closely with gleaming eyes.

“Yes,” I say simply.

The woman’s crinkled face breaks out into a gap-toothed smile. She tilts the mug over her left hand, and – entranced – I watch as something powdery and silver empties into her palm.

“You have much to learn, and much to give,” the woman croaks.

And then, without another word, she blows onto the powder in her palm and into my face.

It happens almost in slow motion; the silver particles float through the rain and the night like thousands of tiny stars – they float through the air until they cloud my vision. Until I can see nothing else.

I stumble backwards, my feet rocking beneath me. The sound of rain ceases, and the feel of water coating my skin vanishes.

I have the sensation that I am falling, falling, falling…

I am untethered… unfixed… unbound.

I can feel a thousand different ropes wrapped around me, threads pulling me in different directions and leading me to a thousand different places.

I feel something tug – snap – and it’s as if one of those threads has been pulled from my being.

And then everything turns to silver.