Onto A New World 221jq

Copyright © 2016 by David Peter Swan

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Epilogue

Chapter 1

They had all been prepared for this moment by their father. He wasn’t the kind of man to hide his hurt. A rarity some might say. Once he knew the diagnosis was definite and there was nothing else the doctors could do. The family went through exactly what would happen. Right down to his last breath. And this was where they were now. The last breath. Emily went up to her father and touched his hand. She was in a profound state of shock as all the family were. Her father’s hand was warm but weak. She felt the lightest of grasps and then he tugged her towards him. As she walked towards her father she held our father’s silver cross in her other hand. Tightly. The sharp edges of the cross dug deeply into her skin. He seemed to be trying to say something to her. She leaned in a little bit closer while her grandmother touched her shoulder reassuringly. ‘I think he wants to say something,’ said her Grandmother. Emily placed her ear close to her father’s face until she could feel his warm breath against her cheek. She then stepped back feeling a little confused. ‘three-six-nine’ she thought he said but Emily seemed unsure. Her mother looked at her as if her father had offered her a last word but Emily just shrugged her shoulders. Uncomfortable with the situation. ‘Must be the medication,’ said Emily and stepped back. She swallowed hard fighting back the tears. She had promised her father that she would not cry when the time came. She said she would save her tears for outside when she had the whole sky to comfort her. The family seemed to unconsciously step back and form a half circle daisy chain. They held each other’s hands as if in prayer. The tightness of their grip was the only thing holding them together. The Doctor turned round to look at Emily’s mother as if looking for approval. Catherine gave a slight nod and a resigned smile. The Doctor walked towards the machine and switched it off. Silence was an

unwelcome visitor for the next few minutes. It forced everyone else to form a tighter chain. Everybody squeezing each other’s hands for that extra comfort. No one said anything for what seemed like hours. And then the Grandmother’s tears broke the silence. A gentle weeping that broke the chain as each person turned towards someone else for comfort. Emily just continued to stare at her father’s body. It’s stillness. She was looking for signs of life leaving the body as if she might notice a faint whisper of his spirit rise up and out of the ceiling but the white sheet that now covered her father’s face was a frozen shroud. She whispered her prayers silently. Confident that he was now in heaven. Her thoughts took her to the last time they had moved house and that final look down the hallway when you close the door. All the memories that you shared and that deep sadness you felt when you realized you were never coming back. Her Mother put her arm around her shoulder and pulled her close into her. The soft touch of wool against her face comforted her as did the tears that dropped onto her head from her Mother’s cheeks. The family were then shown into another room where Emily was left with her Grandparents while her Mother went to discuss things with the doctor. Emily picked up one of the half-chewed magazines and flicked through the photos as a distraction. Her mind should have been on her move to secondary school this September. Becoming twelve was supposed to be a turning point in her life. This summer should have been one she’ll never forget, and it will be, but for all the wrong reasons. Her mother walked into the room and nodded to everyone giving a faint smile. Emily’s Grandfather looked up and said, ‘Done?’ Done, seemed such a cold word but somehow relevant in its immediacy. Yes, it had been done, and they could all go home and try and get on with their lives. ‘Just some paper work to sign and we can go.’ After dropping off her Grandparent’s. Emily and her Mother drove home in silence. As they arrived home. Her friend Tabitha and her mother were parked outside and Emily allowed herself a smile to balance out the serious expression on her friend’s face. Hugs were exchanged as the Mother’s headed into the kitchen while Tabitha and Emily went into Emily’s bedroom. ‘Are you OK?’ asked Tabitha. ‘Sure fine. Not much to talk about really. Shall we watch a film instead?’ said

Emily. ‘Ok you pick one then.’ Emily selected Peter Pan and placed the disc into the DVD player. Tabitha grabbed the duvet and they both curled up on Emily’s bed. Emily held the pillow closely while Tabitha occasionally glanced across at her to make sure she was ok. It wasn’t too long before Emily fell asleep with the numbers her father spoke floating through her mind. 3-6-9. Emily’s house was of the modern pre-fabricated kind. The external style was a nod to the Victorian era but with the solid reassurance a modern house could offer. Her bedroom walls were painted white and the posters on the wall reflected her tastes in strong female heroines from Katniss to Angelina Jolie. Her room was surprisingly clean for a girl her age and furniture and ornaments were placed neatly and in order. The odd picture of Ghandi or Einstein would also be there but only at the insistence of her Dad, to inspire her. The cross and image of Christ by her bed had also been given to her by her father but she considered it part of her faith and her way of connecting to her Dad. It was this faith that was getting her through this traumatic experience. Her mother Catherine walked in while she was praying. Catherine didn’t follow her husband’s faith but if it kept him away from the alcohol she was more than happy. ‘Oh sorry Emily. Didn’t realize you were,’ Catherine sat on the edge of the bed. Emily sat up too. ‘It’s ok just a few words to help him on his way. Catherine looked away and bit her lip. She didn’t want to upset what was important to her daughter. She stroked her daughter’s hair. ‘Just need to focus on this funeral. And the paperwork.’ Emily sat on the edge of her bed. Waiting for the funeral was painstaking. The numbness through her body was hard to describe and she was lost for things to do except re-arrange an already tidy space and be distracted by as much pointless television or you tube clips as possible. ‘When are you working next?’ asked Emily. Catherine asked for two weeks off but was told only one week was doable due to staff shortages. She could have

done without the back breaking work. Dealing with elderly patients was trying at the best of the times. Never mind the low wages that she was hoping to change with the computer course she had been taking at nights. That would all have to take a back seat for now. All she could focus on was the bills that were in Michael’s name and finding the telephone numbers to various insurance companies that he had. The thoughts about how they would manage on one person’s wage didn’t come into the equation.

‘I’ve got the week off then back to work I’m afraid.’ Emily held onto her tightly. She wished her mother didn’t have to work but knew things would be tougher from now on. Catherine buttoned Emily’s black jacket up to the top and placed the dark blue beret on her head. Catherine was tugging too hard at the top button her own frustrations showing through. Emily pushed away her hand. ‘I can do it myself Mum,’ and she pulled herself away from her. They were both understandably tense and looked at each other for a second. ‘Will I see his face?’ asked Emily. ‘Yes. You will get a chance to say goodbye. He will be at the front of the church.’ Emily thought about seeing her father’s face again but decided against it. ‘I think I’ll just stay at the back.’ Emily’s mother readjusted her hat nervously. ‘The car’s outside now. We best hurry up.’ They both walked outside and Emily saw the hearse in front of her car. A long dark dragon for her to ignore. She quickly ran into the other car holding Tabitha’s hand. Tabitha squeezed Emily’s finger. Tabitha was inside. ‘He’s looking out for you. I’m sure of it.’

But Emily just stared at the hedges lining the road side trying to distract herself from the hearse in front. Her Mother got into the front seat of the car and closed the door. The driver radioed to the car in front and then started up his engine. As he started the engine the radio blasted into life. ‘3-6-9 The goose drank wine. The monkey chewed tobacco on the sweet Caroline, the line broke the monkey got choked, and they all went to heaven…’

Emily and Tabitha burst into laughter and immediately clasped their hands over their mouths as if they had committed some terrible sin. Catherine stared at the driver in stony silence as the driver quickly switched the radio off. He then turned the radio to a classical music station and they fell back into sombre mood as the cars drove off.

Emily thought briefly about the numbers her father had whispered to her and then brushed it away. She whispered to herself unconsciously as the car drove down the high street, and they all went to heaven in a little row-boat. As the car drove down the high street elderly ladies and gentleman like her grandparents either stopped or tipped their hats out of respect. One old lady took out a hanky and wiped her own tears and for the first time Emily started to cry herself. They were silent tears that inched slowly down her cheeks as she ed the old lady on the high street. Tabitha touched her back as Emily’s shoulders started to shake. She looked up at the sky begging for its comfort. As the hearse pulled up outside the church Emily got out of her car and with Tabitha went beside her mother. She looked at the ground with occasional glances up to see where she should go. As the coffin was carried in by friends and family Emily was ushered to the front of the church and waited for the sermon to begin. A gangly man appeared who reminded her of one of the Shakespearian characters she had seen at a school play once. A skull and a soliloquy would seem relevant at this point but the eulogist offered an eccentric speech that seemed to touch everyone.

‘Michael he was full of joy and never short of a joke. He had a lot of ‘joie de vivre’ yet acted like a bloke. We’ll never forget how hard he fought, with courage hope and vigour. We’ll never forget you Michael Scythes and your insistence on intellectual rigour.’ For the first time Emily’s Mum smiled and so did most of the guests. The eulogist had done what no one else could do and allowed them all to try and feel some sense of joy from an otherwise tragic event. When they got back to the house Emily and Tabitha sat on the living room sofa while black and grey suits and skirts whisked past their eyes offering condolences to Catherine. Emily just felt like she was in some kind of hypnotic haze as if somehow she wasn’t feeling as sad as she should. Tabitha was sat there hardly moving just chewing slowly on the sausage roll. Emily nudged her. ‘Probably get Vol au Vents’ at your house.’ ‘Stop being paranoid. We’re no different from you.’ Emily elbowed her gently but Tabitha knew she was just joking. Tabitha lived only a few streets away which in London was the difference between rich and poor. Not that Emily considered herself poor. More moderate but Tabitha had a larger house. Not that Emily felt that money mattered although with her Father gone she was worried for her Mother who was now being consoled by friends at the dining table.

Chapter 2

Emily was last to walk out of the class and waved goodbye to the teacher as she left. Her mother met her at the gates with Alan who was their bereavement councillor’s son. Emily had hated the counselling sessions. All that prying into her personal life. How do you feel Emily? It’s ok to be angry you know and the greatest cliché of them all, time is a great healer. Emily didn’t need to be told that. She just needed to be left alone, but that was considered dangerous so Alan was sent in to cheer her up. They both jumped into her Mother’s car. Alan whipped the seat belt around him very tightly. He nervously checked the buckle and then checked the tightness of the strap just in case. ‘Emily put your seatbelt on please.’ Alan was still testing the tightness of the belt. ‘We’re not taking off you know,’ said Emily. Alan looked at Emily as if they were about to take off. Alan worried about everything. He spent most nights worrying about what would happen if the earth stopped spinning. What would he fall into? Where would he land? Alan looked like the kind of kid that would break easily. He was skinny, pale, sounded nervous and talked too much about geeky stuff. ‘Emily. Alan asked to come over this evening as he wanted to show you something.’ Alan turned and gave Emily an over-enthusiastic grin. ‘Venus is going to transit across Mars tonight Emily. We can view it on NASAs website. It should be really cool.’ Alan held up two thumbs. Emily groaned inwardly.

She sat as far away as possible from him and looked out of the window. She wasn’t sure if Alan was an angel or a demon. She stared up at the clouds hoping

to see shapes of her father’s face. A minor habit she kept to herself since the funeral. A tinge of sadness dropped into her stomach. She noticed Alan still checking the seatbelt and huffing to himself which she found quite funny. Alan’s company, however annoying, was still a welcome distraction. ‘How about we watch some Justin Bieber clips instead,’ said Emily. ‘Justin who? My mother has blocked access to most videos sites and only allows me one hour on a science site of my choice.’ ‘How nerdy.’ ‘Emily please watch your language.’ ‘It’s Ok Mrs Whitehall. I understand.’ Alan grabbed Emily’s hand and gave a goofy grin. ‘Time is a great healer.’ Emily re-thought her previous statement about angels and demons while her Mother pulled away. On the journey home Alan wouldn’t stop talking about his planet thing which made her feel angry. Emily did her best to subdue the anger through a very fierce but fixed smile. As they pulled into the drive way Emily unclasped the seatbelt as fast as she could while Alan was left struggling with his. ‘Emily wait for Alan please. I thought he’d be some nice company for you.’ Emily placed her hand beside her mouth in a secretive manner. ‘He seems really nerdy.’ Her mother scrunched her face up in disapproval at Emily. ‘This seat belt is a bit sticky.’ said Alan as he continued to struggle. Microwave meals were on the menu tonight. Emily went for the Spaghetti Bolognese. Alan, being more health conscious, brought a calorie-free nut loaf with butter nut squash. Normally they would eat at the table but that had stopped recently. The vacant chair was the elephant in the room. So Emily and Alan

headed upstairs to her room.

Alan noticed the tidiness of her room and the posters of the girls which he felt embarrassed by. He also noticed the cross and picture of Jesus. ‘I didn’t realize you were religious. My father encouraged me into the sciences rather than religion. He said the bible was made up.’ Emily was hurt by this. Her faith being so closely connected to her father. ‘Well. Science doesn’t know everything and if it helps you get through the days.’ Alan realized the insensitivity of the subject and onished himself. Emily flicked the television on and tried her best to ignore Alan. Alan was oblivious to Emily’s dislike for him and found it impossible not to talk. His unique capacity to question anything and everything ensured that the evening would not be a quiet one. Emily settled on a National Geographic programme on spiders and insects. Alan’s head drooped visibly refusing to look at the screen. Alan didn’t like spiders or insects. ‘Alan. Your head is nearly in your dinner. Are your glasses strong enough?’ ‘Don’t mind me Emily. Just love my food. Not really fond of things with many eyes.’ ‘They’re just spiders. They’re cool.’ ‘Yes but it’s just the whole eye thing and hairy legs. You never know which way they will run.’ ‘Well. They’ve gone now. The programmes finished.’ Alan looked up to see eight eyes staring right at him. ‘urgh God. Which eye goes where?’ He quickly put his face back down in his dinner while Emily laughed to herself. Alan finished his dinner and jumped onto Emily’s computer to surf the net. Emily grabbed her mobile phone and started to text Tabitha. While Alan lazily surfed he found a music video he quite liked and started to play it. The black and white grainy image of the black soul singers danced across the screen along with the lyrics as they sang;

‘And the line broke, the monkey got choked, and they all went to heaven in a little row boat.’ Emily quickly turned her head faintly recognizing the lyrics. ‘What’s that?’ she asked. ‘It’s a song my Mother likes. Stupid really. I found it while surfing the internet. Not my thing really but I thought you might like it?’ Alan turned up the sound as the three girls screamed out of the speakers. ‘Ma mama told her, I kissed a soldier, now she won’t buy me a rubber dolly…’ As soon as Alan heard the word kiss his face went bright red. He quickly tried to look away but his face only went even brighter. Emily smiled at this and warmed to Alan a little bit more. She stared at the grainy images flickering across the screen. The girls with their short skirts, dancing like puppets on the screen. She again thought of the numbers her father had whispered to her. She knew she was being silly thinking that the numbers had meaning but she would grab onto anything if it meant being able to be near her father again. She appeared upset.

‘What’s the matter? Is it the song?’ said Alan. ‘No nothing.’ Alan got up and turned his chair towards Emily. His mother had taken him in on weekend counselling sessions and he had picked up a few tips from listening to the councillor’s about how to give advice. He crossed his legs and took of his glasses and started to polish them with the lint cloth he kept tucked in his pocket. ‘Now Emily. I want you to take all these bad thoughts and imagine placing them into a balloon. Try to see the balloon floating.’ ‘Alan.’ ‘Yes. Emily.’

‘Shut up. I’m fine.’ ‘Oh. Ok. I’m just saying if you see the balloon, or maybe a box floating down the river. Just put those,’ ‘Stop it.’ ‘How about a raft?’ ‘I’ll put the spiders on again.’ Alan turned round quickly and continued to surf. ‘I’m just trying to help.’ ‘I know Alan and its nice but at the moment I don’t want to talk about it. I feel like a dams about to burst but not here. Not now.’

Alan went back to surfing and clicking the keys on the keyboard. Emily held her fists as tight as she could. Alan quickly found a website dedicated to all things ancient and mystical. All verified by very dubious teachers with questionable qualifications. ‘Did you know that three-six-nine was the magical key to the universe.’ ‘What?’ Emily turned again. Her ears alert. ‘It was stated by a man called Nikola Tesla. One of the greatest inventors in the world. He said something about the number being able to unlock secret mysteries.’ Alan leaned closer towards Emily with a wild suspicious look in his eyes. ‘He could create vibrations that could split the earth in two.’ Emily took over from Alan and started to search again for the three-six-nine song. It was starting to grow on her. She clicked on a link and started to play it again. She had a look down the side choices for different versions and noticed another link to the number three-six-nine and clicked on the link. The website

was full of flash animations with psychedelic colours twirling in and out. There was a picture of a bald-headed man who appeared to be looking directly at her. He wore a black-shirt that had stars stuck all over it and the words Mystic Pete printed across it. To the side of his picture was a cartoon bubble with the words, ‘I can free your mind.’

There was a list of hypnotherapy videos with the different numbers on them. They were called harmonics and each different vibration related to a healing of some sort. Emily scrolled down to the tune called 369 MHz . It said ‘Tuning your mind into the Universe.’ Emily looked at the screen. ‘Shall we click on one?’ Alan hesitated. ‘What happens if it creates some kind of vortex, or alters our DNA blueprint?’ ‘Alan. The only thing it is likely to do is reduce your Mother’s bank balance by $1.99.’ They clicked on the link and paid the money and then waited for the video to . After a few seconds they clicked on the and sat back. The colours and the music started to swirl around like the twirls on a Catherine Wheel, spiralling in and out. The sound of soft rain came through in the background and Emily nearly cracked a joke about whale music until a low male voice started to come through adding to the mystique. They both became hypnotized by the music and started to yawn. It ran for fifteen minutes and after it stopped Emily and Alan seemed dazed. They went to sit on the bed and put the television on. ‘Can you feel anything?’ asked Emily. ‘Nothing. Those things are just rubbish. Pseudo-science really,’ said Alan. They played the music again and laid down on the bed while staring at the ceiling. Emily closed her eyes but the shapes and patterns kept dancing and moving in and out on the back of her eyelids. They both fell asleep and Emily started to dream she was swimming in an ocean.

A dolphin was swimming alongside her. She touched the side of its body feeling its smooth yet wet silky skin. She looked into its eye. She could see the face of her father reflected in its eye. She started to cry in her dream and the tears formed into an ocean and Emily continued to swim alongside the dolphin for what seemed like forever. Then she found herself on a deserted beach looking out onto the horizon. The colours dazzled her eyes so she held up her hands to shield herself from the bright lights. And then dark clouds started to appear. Ominous warnings of a future event. In the vision a path opened up splitting the ocean and Emily sensed a journey that she had to go on. She woke up and found Alan was curled up like a sloth at the end of her bed. He was talking in his sleep. ‘I don’t want to fall of the ends of the earth.’

Chapter 3

Michael felt his smooth face with his hand. He preferred to shave as little as possible but had to it the smooth face was a younger look to the haggard beard he used to sprout when he was drinking. It was moments like these that Michael would reflect on the past. Feel great for this new person that he had become and occasionally wince at what he used to be. Thankfully Emily had been too young to those days. It was Catherine who received the sharp blows that would often come after a binge. And after he had finished washing the shaving cream from of his face it often felt like he was cleansing the past from his mind. Michael coughed and held his hand to his mouth. He checked his palm for blood but it was clean. He finished looping his tie and checked his watch. As always he was late but this time it was intentional. He thought the test would be clear but when the doctor suggested he bring a partner he was worried. The journey to the surgery was in silence. ‘So how is your computer course going?’ he asked. ‘Only another twelve weeks and then a diploma in website istration. Hooray.’ ‘Great. Get out of that job and earn some more cash.’ They fell back into silence. ‘It’ll be fine,’ said Catherine, sensing the tenseness. ‘Of course it will. We always manage.’ Sights, sounds and smells started to crystallize as the car pulled into the driveway. Michael did his best to breathe slowly and be as rational as he could about the situation. The walk down the hospital corridors was lengthy and painful. As always finding your way to the right unit was a nightmare with Catherine leading the way, right then left. Michael did his best to ignore the endless warning signs on the corridor walls for different ailments. He looked away when he saw a patient being pushed towards him on a trolley. Eventually they found their way to the

unit doors and announced their arrival to the receptionist. ‘Michael and Catherine Whitehall to see Doctor Turner.’ They both took seats and quickly grabbed papers and magazine while they waited for the call. ‘Mr and Mrs Whitehall. Doctor Turner will see you now.’ Michael didn’t know what to expect when he sat down but he did his best to hope for some misunderstanding. Michael and Catherine both smiled while the doctor returned to his papers. ‘Thank you for coming Mr and Mrs Whitehall. Now Michael we have had the reports back and there is no easy way to say this but the diagnosis shows an aggressive brain tumour. Now the diagnosis can never be definite but without treatment you’d be looking at six months but that is the worse and just something that I have to say.’ Catherine crushed Michael’s hand but he just felt a numbness rush through his body. The doctor’s voice suddenly seemed very far away and the room seemed to zoom out a little as if Michael was taking in the bigger picture. He felt his stomach shrink and the butterflies die inside him. ‘What do you mean six months?’ he enquired letting go of Catherine’s hand who was now sat motionless beside him. ‘I’m really sorry to tell you this but we have to give the worse diagnosis while understanding things could change but that’s not a guarantee. We will have to start right away on chemo -’ by now the doctor’s voice, the surgery and Catherine seemed very far away. The doctor stood up again and looked closely at Michael’s X-Rays. Words were coming out of his mouth but he heard nothing. Michael couldn’t think. He wanted to turn to his wife and say something but he couldn’t. He just stood staring at the wall hoping the doctor would come out and say something else like, ‘but then again’, but the Doctor continued to point at the x ray as his voice moved further away along with the room and Catherine. ‘Six months,’ Michael mumbled. He turned to Catherine whose face was white. She had nothing to say. Her world had shrunk too. ‘So what happens next?’ Catherine asked. ‘Well I have some leaflets for you to various centres and the nurses will advise you on further treatment. I’ll set up an appointment for you next week and we can start the chemotherapy treatment.’ There was a brief moment in the room as they all looked at each other and then

Michael started to get up out of the chair. He felt every stretch and bend of the move as if his mind was filming him move towards the door. Michael and Catherine walked out of the door and then down the corridor. They sat down in the café area. ‘We’ll get a second opinion,’ said Catherine. ‘They might be wrong.’ ‘You hear it happening to friends and people every day but you never imagine yourself getting it,’ said Michael. Michael was looking at an old lady being pushed in a wheelchair. ‘Aren’t we all supposed to be living into our nineties? Having to work beyond our years because the state can’t handle all these athletic geriatrics, jumping and skipping their way through retirement?’ A slight bit of anger could be felt in his voice. Catherine held Michael’s hands and looked into his eyes. ‘We will get through this Michael. Mark my words. I am not going to let you go.’ Michael pushed the thoughts out of his mind. Pushed the feelings deeper down into his stomach but as he pushed deeper something else within him rose. A strong desire to drink. He knew it as a typical reaction and said a few prayers in his head. He still had his group to rely on. All was not lost. ‘What will I tell work?’ ‘And what about Emily?’ Catherine didn’t know what to say. She was still in the hope phase. Her thoughts on that second opinion. ‘Let’s get home first shall we.’ Catherine was always practical when it came to tough situations. Her toughness was born from dealing with Michael’s drunkenness and violent bouts. She had missed a few swings and ducks in the past and could manage these few knocks now. Emily had been outside playing in the garden when her parents got back. By the look on her face she knew it wasn’t good news. She would have preferred rain rather than a boiling hot sun. The giddiness of the first warm spring day with the news that your father had cancer was unsettling. As always emotions never came first. It was the blank expression. A mind that just froze up followed by a cheery

comment that must have been picked out of the top ten things to say when someone tells you they have cancer. ‘I’m sure everything will be fine.’ Emily sat on the sofa trying to grasp the enormity of the situation. Outside the younger kids were all screaming. The sun was hot. Emily didn’t know what to say except hope for the best. ‘What do you think Dad?’ asked Emily. Michael looked at Emily. He gave a weak smile that had a hint of resignation to it. He had a look of defeat on his face that she had not seen for years. ‘It’ll be fine. Let’s wait.’ Michael got up and started to do some stretches. ‘Best just go for a run. Start eating right. I’ll start chemo next week. It’ll be fine.’ Catherine and Emily watched as Michael went out of the living room to get his running shoes then Catherine got up. ‘Well. I’ll go to the supermarket and get some fresh produce in it’ll be good for all of us.’ ‘Do you want some help mum?’ asked Emily. ‘No. It’s ok.’ And Catherine left to go to the supermarket leaving Emily alone on the sofa. The palpable uncomfortableness had left the room and Emily could only focus on the positive. She got up and went into her bedroom. She took the cross that stood on the mantel piece and held it in her hands. It was always her father who insisted she go to church. And in the beginning she was not that bothered but she knew how much it meant to her father and his recovery and went for his sake and the closeness. While her father kneeled she would sit beside him staring up at the statue of Christ on the cross and the warm sunlight, fracturing as it came through the stain glass windows onto his back. Emily’s gaze would switch between Christ on the cross and her Father bent down praying and she would pray and say thanks to God for providing help to her father when he needed it. His words, ‘God will provide’ now seemed somewhat hollow. She touched the legs of Christ and felt the nail that locked his legs together. She never understood why they inflicted so much pain and suffering on him. All for a belief. She wondered if she could ever do the same herself. Sacrifice her life for a belief.

Maybe for her father she thought to herself. She placed the cross back on to the mantel piece and said a quiet prayer. She then set about sorting out the mess in her cupboards and getting rid of the toys that she had refused to touch every time her parents had told her too.

She looked at herself in the mirror and noticed the changes occurring in her body. She turned to her side and looked at the emerging curve-lines that she felt made her a little wiser. Everything in Emily’s world was changing. Her school. Her body. Her family. She couldn’t afford to think the worse so decided to block all negative thinking out. Her father needed her so she needed to be strong. She heard the door open and went to see who it was. It was her Mother who had returned with the shopping. Normally Emily would remain in the room texting with friends but she decided to go and see if she could help her. Her Mother held things together in the house. While she and her father messed around it was her mother who would be in the background tirelessly cleaning or preparing the dinner. ‘Wow. That looks like a lot more shopping than we would normally get.’ Catherine didn’t seem to notice her. She was busy unpacking the food. Along with the normal shopping Catherine had purchased new food. The expensive stuff she would normally call it. Muesli cereals, organic carrots and chicken. Herbal remedies and health food drinks that contained all the vitamins and more. Emily picked up one of the cereal packets. ‘Organic rolled oats. Hand-picked berries from surrey. Three pound sixty. Can you afford this?’ Catherine grabbed the packet of Emily and slammed it on the kitchen top. ‘I’ll do some over-time. Your Dad will not always be able to work when he-, if he becomes more ill. So we have to do what we can.’ She carried on putting the new food into the cupboards but clearly she was stressed. Emily’s new found enthusiasm took a dive as she felt her Mothers angst. She decided to leave her to it and heard her father coming in from his run. She went out to greet him and say hello but he just brushed past her, ‘I’m going to do a few more sit-ups Emily. Talk later.’ Despite Emily’s attempt at enthusiasm her mother and father had gone into separate spaces. Outwardly it was all ‘we can do this’, ‘there are other options’ while inwardly it was preparation for war. Her heart took two steps back and started building

defences just in case it came to the worse. Pain was the enemy and you didn’t know how much of it was around the corner and everyone seemed to have their own way of dealing with it. The family should have come closer together but while they were spending more time together internally they grew further apart. To Emily it all seemed too strange. She spent more time with her friends and ‘I’m just going out’ was heard every night instead of twice a week.

Chapter 4

Emily’s room had become her sanctuary. The outside world had become too dangerous contained too much pain. The councillor had said it can take up to one year to heal but didn’t say that every single day felt like one year and that one year felt like forever. It was an endless future of misery that she would rather not look at so it was best to turn her attention elsewhere. Alan and Tabitha had become firm friends and more nights spent hanging out at Emily’s had become the norm. Alan had taken to turning up unannounced to just hang out but Emily knew his mother had sent him in as some kind of benevolent mole to spy on her well-being. Emily didn’t mind. The sense of being crowded comforted her and Alan just sat in the back-ground surfing science websites. Without the normal controls imposed by his Mother, Alan was able to surf as many websites as possible. He was like a kid in a candy shopped as he hopped from one geeky website to another finding out rational facts about how the world fitted together. ‘I’ve found some more stuff on three-six-nine. This stuff is more spiritual’. Emily looked up. That number still caught her heart every single time as if it was the only thing that connected her to her father. The number had taken on a mysterious connection for her. She and Tabitha jumped up to see what Alan had discovered. There on the screen spinning wildly around and around was a threedimensional star. ‘It looks pretty cool. Like a star’. Inside the star was a picture of a person in meditation. A blue pulse of lightning was running up and down the middle of the person’s body. ‘What’s this go to do with three-six-nine,’ asked Emily. ‘Each triangle has three points. From the front view it has six points and in three dimensions it has nine points’. Alan looked like he had discovered the secrets to the universe. The mathematical part allowed him to forego his usual scientific viewpoint.

‘But what’s the actual point’ said Tabitha chuffed with her cheap joke. ‘I don’t know but it comes with instructions. Breathe in seventeen times. Then imagine you are sitting in a star. One at the top and one at the bottom’. The girls had become curious by now but only because they liked stars and the picture looked quite pretty surrounded by other stars. There was also the picture of a man dressed in white. The blurb underneath said that the star vehicle could transport you to other dimensions. Emily was just fixated on the man’s smile. It reminded him of her father’s smile. He had kind eyes that reminded Emily of the last look her father gave her before he ed away. ‘Let’s try it,’ said Tabitha and she sat down on the floor breathing in and out with her eyes closed imagining a star in her head. Emily and Alan sat down. They all breathed in and out heavily, inhaling and exhaling. ‘Oh god I feel dizzy,’ said Alan. ‘Me too,’ said Emily. ‘How long are we supposed to keep doing this for?’ ‘Nine months’ said Alan. The girls both stopped and looked at Alan. ‘You nerd. Nine months’ said Tabitha. ‘You have to practice at it’ said Alan but the girls had already given up and taken over the computer. Emily continued to surf. She liked the idea that this number had meaning to it. It offered her some reassurance. An alternative faith. It pulled at her in a strange way. She knew that some people believed in an after-life and of course with her faith in God then a heaven, but why did she get no message from her father after his death? She landed on a website belonging to a clairvoyant and she quickly read the blurb. Tabitha put her arms around Emily knowing that she may still be finding ways to deal with grief after her father’s ing. ‘Do you believe in an after-life?’ asked Emily. Tabitha chose her words carefully even though it was not something she thought of. No one in her house ever discussed religious or spiritual things. Her Mother and Father just shrugged their shoulders each time and went back to doing what they did best. ‘I like the idea of an after-life why not.’

Alan’s ears pricked up at the conversation and he knew what to say but tried to think of another way to say it. ‘Maybe people who believe have a tough time dealing with death but I agree science still doesn’t know.’ Emily looked away annoyed with Alan’s statement. ‘When we dream it seems real but are bodies are asleep. You can see, feel, hear and think. Maybe our minds can continue in some similar way?’ Alan was thinking of the dinosaur analogy and whether heaven was big enough to hold everything that had ed since beings began but decided to drop it. ‘Well. I suppose with quantum physics there could be a mini-heaven for every person. Each one of us dreaming our lives away in an atom somewhere.’ Emily liked the idea of her father dreaming his life away in an atom out there or in here. She continued to read the blurb from the psychic’s website but at fifty pounds for an hour considered it too much to take from her hard working Mother and decided to leave it. Tabitha and Alan headed home for the night and left Emily alone.

That night Emily lay in her bed looking up at the ceiling. She thought about the picture of the star. The face of that man and her father. She closed her eyes and breathed in through her nose. She imagined herself sat inside the centre of a star which was made of bright white glowing tubes like the bright tube-lights above her head at school. She imagined a blue line going from the top of her head and down to her toes as the man had instructed. She breathed in faster and faster. Imagined the star glowing brighter and brighter and then fell asleep.

She dreamed of herself in a meadow full of yellow daisy chains and giant oak trees. White dandelions were floating up towards the sky. Emily was sat on the grass with her knees held up to her chest. In the distance was a cat but not a house cat. It looked quite bulky and was more like a leopard or puma. It was

pure white and walked slowly and purposefully. It walked up to Emily and she could see its sharp white teeth protruding from its solid head but she wasn’t afraid. It came up to her face until both their noses were touching. The cat said, ‘Boo!’ and then Emily woke up. Her Mother was curled up at the bottom of her bed. She had a soaked tissue in her hand. Her hair sprawled out across Emily’s legs like a Chinese fan. Emily stroked her hair and touched her nose and then went back to sleep.

Chapter 5

It was a close competition between Michael and Catherine for the ‘who was the toughest’ title. Michael would always say Catherine was and Catherine would say nothing as if she accepted and knew she was the tougher one but it was far from the truth. Dealing with an alcoholic was like looking after a child even if he had kicked the habit some years ago. The emotional dramas that had to be dealt with required tact sensitivity and like an unruly child they tended to lash out at you but the big difference between a child’s punch and his, was that you didn’t have to duck the fists when they came flying. Of course that would be followed by his tears and regret but when there is a child involved, as a mother, your instincts are to protect the child and forget the man. When Catherine gave birth to Emily she didn’t choose to be tough. It’s not a role she applied for or a skill she was trained in. She spent nine months feeling a baby being born inside her; being a witness to the act of creation itself. And when she found herself journeying through death’s door and feeling the birth of her new born arrive she found herself ing an elite club of women that had gained an experience no other man could relate to until old age approached. So tough yes but also soft because the mid-wife hands you the answer to all that pain; wrapped up in a white linen towel and placed against your breast. Sacrifice is a good word here. A mother sacrifices her life for a child. And in a small way Catherine has also had to sacrifice a part of her life to a man with drink problems. It was always Catherine giving her energy towards her daughter or her husband and now she would have to grow even thicker skin to deal with Michael’s illness.

When Catherine had been sat there with Michael she was expecting the worst. Six months was bad but she couldn’t really calculate what was going on at that time. The words the doctor spoke floated around the surgery before entering into her ears and disappearing. She ed placing her hands on his face and saying something but it was a maternal response to saving a life like holding her baby close to her and breastfeeding. Being the one who organized things in the family Catherine organized Michael’s trips to the cancer unit. Collected the leaflets, searched the internet for

alternative remedies which she knew would be of no use. Read heart-warming stories from other cancer survivors that gave her hope. Then read of the ones that went to soon that made her toss and turn at night. It reminded her of the days when Michael was in withdrawal. Again she was looking after a child. Looking for cures. Responding to an illness. Michael was stood in the living room. Hands in his pockets staring out of the window looking for a cure. He nervously played with his fingers in his pockets not wanting to show his fear. A hundred thoughts were spinning around his head about different ways he could get over this illness. More running. Eat healthy. Maybe even visit some of those healing quacks he had been mocking all those years but not tell anyone. He tried to hide the simmering bitterness towards his faith that had started to surface recently. He tried to pray last night but somehow he couldn’t and had thrown his beads across the floor. Of course he couldn’t show any of this to Catherine and especially not to Emily. He had to put on a brave face for his daughter but at the moment that was proving difficult. Catherine could sense his anger simmering on the surface but was unsure what to say. She was afraid to go over to him and touch him. Anger was one of the stages of grief so she thought it best to stand back. Michael was still staring at the wall. ‘I suppose I should run a marathon. Or raise money for the trust but I would rather punch a wall or worse still have a beer. I haven’t felt like this for a long time Catherine. Life is a bastard and it just got worse.’ Catherine was lost as to what to say. She fiddled with the remote, switching channels as a distraction. ‘Of course you are angry. Maybe talk to your sponsor or a councillor. Maybe when the treatment starts things will change,’ and her words trailed off. She really didn’t know what to say. Michael quickly booted the living room wall shocking them both. ‘Damn?’ He screamed and the silence that followed gave rise to an old guilt. He could see Catherine recoil and ed the old days which made him feel worse. He walked over to her and went to put her arms around her but Catherine was looking away as she had done before. He wanted to curl up and die inside but was lost.

‘I’m sorry love. I am angry that can’t be denied. I just feel that after recovering so well over the years and saying all those prayers that somehow I would be immune to all this.’ Michael sat down beside Catherine and Catherine moved a little closer to him and placed her arms around him. ‘Forget the past and focus on getting better. We still have a second opinion and not everything the doctors say is written in stone.’ Michael placed his face in his hands and rested for a while and then decided to go for a run. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll go for a run and try and get rid of this negative energy. I’ll start the treatment next week. Mustn’t give up hope.’

Michael got up and left the living room. He walked past Emily’s bedroom and didn’t notice the door that was slightly ajar. He felt another twinge of guilt. Emily was lying on her bed watching a movie while checking her phone. Michael walked in to check on her. Emily saw her father walk in and sat up on the bed. Michael could tell by her face that she had heard what was going on. Michael sat down beside her. ‘I hope you didn’t hear all that. Your father’s gone mad again sorry.’ Emily moved closer and placed her arm through his arm and rested her head on his shoulder. ‘I said prayers for you last night. If that helps.’ Michael noticed the cross on her mantelpiece and ed that it was him who had taken her to church. He had taught Emily about faith and hoped they could be part of some-thing, a way to bring them closer, and it had. Now he was being tested in a way he could never have imagined and his daughter’s faith was what was reminding him to be strong. ‘Thanks Emily. I’ll pop into the church after my run.’

‘I’ll you if you want.’ ‘No don’t worry just let this old goat let of some steam.’ Both Emily and Michael could hear the television loudly through the walls which generally meant that Catherine was upset. ‘I think your mother might need some comforting.’ Michael and Emily both jumped up from the bed and Emily went in to see her mother. ‘

Catherine sat in the living room and started to cry. She heard the door close as Michael left the house. Emily then came into the living room and put her arms around her Mother. They had bonded much stronger naturally and although for Emily the days of her father’s badness were long gone it had created a much deeper alignment than the usual Mother and daughter relationship. Emily pulled out the cross that her father had given her. His faith had helped him with his alcoholism and she had faith that it could help them through theirs. Unfortunately her mother had never believed in anything preferring instead the rational common sense thinking that had got her through her own story of abuse. Watching Michael’s redemption through Christ left her feeling jealous and robbed of better years. While Michael enjoyed his awakening through his club she was left as always at home dealing with a body that had taken too many blows but found no way of expressing forgiveness. Emily held her mother’s hand. ‘Maybe we could say a prayer together?’ said Emily but Catherine couldn’t contain herself no more. ‘When will you give up on this bloody rubbish? If there had have been any god, angels or anything else out there I would hardly imagine that they would put so much misery onto one family.’ Emily put the cross back into her pocket and got up to leave.

‘Sorry Emily. It’s just, you know-’ Emily looked at her mother and felt bad. She wanted more unity but it seemed to be unravelling apart. ‘Your father will start his treatment next, then in a month’s time another diagnosis.’ Emily looked at her mother who had gone back to switching channels. ‘Are you working this week Mum?’ ‘Sure an extra shift to cover your fathers time off. You go off and see your friends. I’ll stick to television as my saviour.’

Chapter 6

Since her dream Emily was unable to get the image of the white cat out of her head. She wanted to know what type of cat it was and after a brief surf confirmed its shape as a puma. She recognized its thick powerful head and those strong white teeth. She thought about it during the day and night and saw it as some kind of benevolent angel. Maybe it all fitted in she thought. The numbers. The star-shaped meditation. Maybe this was all some message from above. An answer from god. She had started to keep her thoughts to herself unsure how her mother would react. Despite the company of her friends she felt unbearably alone. She started to feel more distant from her mother even though they were close. She thought more about the star shaped meditation and like the idea of it. Its shape appealed to her. It reminded her of her childhood days when her father was still here. Stars appeared in the books she had read to her by her mother and father. They appeared on school books for good work. And stars made the night sky bearable. A memory popped up of her on a climbing frame she and her father built when she was young and she started to think about building some kind of star vehicle. Something to distract her before school started. Emily pulled out a notepad and started to make rough sketches of how the idea would look. It seemed ridiculous to build such a thing but she was unable to shift the sadness inside her and hoped that this fun project would bring in some excitement to her life and give her a focus. Alan and Tabitha stood in Emily’s back-garden. The sun stood behind the clouds only peaking round the edges at what Emily was doing. Alan and Tabitha looked at each other slightly bemused as Emily started to drag long metal poles that had been lying in her garden shed out onto the lawn. They were heavy metal poles used for scaffolding and were about the right size and number to create some kind of star vehicle. Tabitha and Alan stared at the poles and again looked at each other. Alan wondered if this was the beginning of some kind of breakdown. After dropping the last pole on the lawn Emily enthusiastically put her hands on her hips. ‘We can build a star vehicle.’ There was silence from Alan and Tabitha.

‘You actually want to build a star vehicle?’ said Alan somewhat bemused. Emily could see they looked concerned. ‘Look it’s just for fun. Like we used to do when we were younger.’ Tabitha and Alan looked at each other unsure if this was a joke or that Emily’s grief was taking a different turn. Alan thought back to the earlier climbing frame he built when he was five years old with his father’s help and realized that maybe Emily was trying to reconnect with her Dad. Rather than disappoint her he decided to help her as much as he could but it clearly would require more than a few poles. His NASA sized geek personality kicked in and he winked at Tabitha who was staring arms-folded, wide-eyed and press-lipped at the metal ensemble. ‘Let’s do this,’ said Alan looking at Tabitha. ‘OK. I’m up for it. I built a tree house once with separate rooms,’ said Tabitha. ‘Well. That’s typical of you in your big back garden,’ teased Emily. ‘It’s not that big,’, ‘Only joking.’ Now that everyone was on board Emily was more enthused by the idea. ‘We’ll need more than six poles. Possibly sixteen and maybe something for the ling to cover the outside.’ They set about searching the garden for poles even branches that fitted the right shape. They pulled old cupboard door s from their attic and gathered further s from an old tip nearby. Alan was aware Emily had a new sense of vigour about her and considered it a positive thing in her dealing with grief. They continued to look through the house for more building implements and searched her house. Old cupboard door ling no longer needed could serve as side doors for the contraption. String was taken from her Mother’s handy box and steel wool from her father’s shed. What started off as a simple bit of fun was starting to look like a serious science project. By lunch time they had gathered enough scrap wood and metal that the back garden started to look like a junk yard. Catherine brought out sandwiches and drinks while they sat on top of three old cushions they had taken from the attic.

‘What on earth are you trying to build?’ ‘Oh nothing much just a sixth dimensional vehicle to take us to another galaxy and back but don’t worry we won’t be long,’ said Alan. Catherine and Emily looked at each other with stiff smiles. They hadn’t been speaking recently. The stress was starting to show. ‘I when this young thing would build a tree-house when she was five. What a mess she made then. Make sure you tidy up the mess when you’ve finished.’ Emily rolled her eyes at her mother then carried on thinking about her project. She thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye. A large cat running towards the corner of the garden. It reminded her of Boo with its big hunched shoulders but she looked again and there was nothing there. After quickly glancing at Alan and Tabitha to see if they had noticed something she ignored it and went back to looking at the junk they had gathered during the day. For the rest of the after-noon they set about talking and planning how to build the vehicle. It had started to become a bit more serious with Alan adopting the role of NASA representative. He had started to think about adding electronics and sound-wave machines which he could connect with jump-start pliers from his mother’s car. Tabitha had enlarged the design of the vehicle so it would comfortably fit all three of them in it. Emily had taken on the role of designer and had decided to draw up a plan about how it would look. She had opted for the two triangles with an upside down one on the bottom, and another one on top. By the end of the day they had stacked the poles in one section with the wooden ling in another, and gathered yards of strong string and steel wool. They could now go upstairs to consider the rest of the design. Emily stayed outside for a while just to finish counting what they had gathered while Alan and Tabitha went inside. Emily looked at the different piles on the ground and looked up at the stars in the sky. She thought of her father and of her dreams and wondered if as Shakespeare had said, ‘There are more things in heaven and earth than you and I can ever imagine.’ She laughed at the idea of building such a ridiculous thing as if she were that small child again building sandcastles on the beach. A memory of her father came back to her from a holiday she once took in Margate. She could

almost feel him there besides her patting the top of the castle while she hit the top of his hand with her plastic spade. She could see their hands playing together like two concert pianists hands darting in and out of the sand. The wind pulled her back from her day dream and back to staring at the night sky looking for signs of her father’s face in the stars. Alan had said that were stages to grief and that eventually it would all but Emily felt like she was in some dark hole and she didn’t know how to get out. It was something she couldn’t discuss with anyone. At the back of her garden she noticed again a shape which made her heart stop. Was it the same cat from her dream? She thought she could see it coming towards her. Those eyes and those hunched shoulders. Only this time she was scared. It was day time and she was not asleep. Her mother opened the slide door and pulled Emily away from what had happened. ‘Emily. It’s cold outside. Please come in.’ ‘Did you see the huge cat?’ Her Mother quickly looked out into the dark garden but could see nothing. ‘No Emily nothing. Now come in please.’ Emily jumped past the open door and into the living room. ‘Emily can you just hang on a second.’ Catherine had been meaning to have a chat with Emily as she had appeared withdrawn recently and taken to staying in her room when her friends were not here. Conversations between herself and Emily had become tort and sharp. Understandably as both were dealing with the extra space in the house in their own way but Emily seemed to be holding things to herself and Catherine understood as a mother that she would need a surgeons precision to try and find out what was going on. ‘I know what you’re going to say Mum. Another councillor but I’m fine. As everyone keeps saying it takes time.’ ‘I’m not suggesting more counselling but how about getting out and meeting some people or take up an activity. You’re in all day hunched over that computer

surfing god knows what.’ ‘I’m hardly going to take up wind surfing or art classes. I’ll be fine Mum. We are working on a creative project in the garden now and I’m sure in a couple of months I’ll pick something up.’ Emily smiled. She wouldn’t tell her that this project was for her father. Or about the cat she just thought she saw. Emily just ignored the rest of what her mother said and ran upstairs to her bedroom. Alan and Tabitha had gone home so she quickly checked outside her window to see if the cat was there. Nothing. She put on some more hypnotherapy sounds and practiced her breathing exercises. She breathed in deep and hard. She visualized the blue line running up and down her spine. She dreamed of the stars and dreamed of her father. And then she fell asleep. All around her was darkness and Emily was alone. She looked around but could see nothing, yet still she could see. Emily was alone but not afraid. Out of the darkness came two round eyes and she knew who it was. Boo. The cat came out of the darkness and as always the shoulders rolled through first, followed by the large paws. The cat sat down on its hind legs and stared at Emily and Emily started back. Unafraid. ‘Who are you?’ ‘I’m your guardian Angel if you want to call me that.’ ‘What do you want from me?’ ‘To let you know your father is fine.’ ‘Where is my father?’ ‘In another realm.’ ‘Another realm?’ ‘Kind of. It’s a bit more complicated in this multi-verse.’ ‘Multi-verse?’ Emily was more confused than ever. ‘First let me explain. These places are not fixed places like where you live. Although ittedly your world appears solid. It is in fact made of vibrations

just like the strings of a violin. Take each string as a universe and imagine an infinite amount of universes. Matter is energy and speed. A physical vibration. So when you die you shed your physical skin and are reborn into another realm of existence much like a dream. It’s a different form of energy.’ ‘Like Heaven?’ ‘Yes. Only there are infinite heavens just as there are grains of sands on earth.’ ‘And my father is in one now?’ ‘Yes. ‘ ‘Can I see him?’ ‘Kind of but he will not recognize you. It will be like watching a film that he has chosen for himself.’ ‘How do we get there?’ ‘No need to go anywhere out there. In this multi-verse you just think it and so it will be. Come stand beside me and place your hand on my head.’ Emily stood beside Boo and they both stared out into the blackness. She placed her hand on his head and felt a surge of energy whoosh through her body. The blackness in front of her acted like a large cinema screen and immediately a thousand dazzling bright lights and colours came into view, of star systems and galaxies, expanding further and further into space. Emily moved her hand and arm around Boo’s neck as if she needed to hold on tight. The star systems continued to unfold in an ever expanding view of the universe as if she was witnessing the very unfolding of the universe, and then things came to a standstill, and Emily just stood there staring into the clusters of vast golden clouds and galactic swirls that appeared like alien visions. She had never seen such a beautiful thing before. She could see the Milky Way spinning on its axis surrounded by millions and millions of star systems. ‘This is your known universe.’ ‘I’m scared,’ said Emily.

‘That’s ok you only have to say so and you’ll be back in your bed. You’re safe with me.’ ‘So what’s the multi-verse, and what about god, and where is my Dad?’ ‘Whoa steady on. All in good time. What you see is just an appearance and it’s hard to imagine that all of this is just energy vibrating as mass. One single string.’ Emily was lost at this point. Words like energy and mass were more Alan’s field and what she wanted was her father. Boo sensed this. ‘I know it’s big. Fathomless but you can see how there is enough room for everyone we are only limited by our own imagination. Ready for something else.’ And Emily held on a little tighter to Boos ear as the universe and its intricately designed galaxies and star systems were replaced with a trillion bubble-like cells, and a noise that was like a loud bubbling river. Emily could discern among the sounds different noises and voices. Children laughing. Waves crashing against a sea shore. Bicycle bells trilling. She felt as if she could almost reach out and touch the bubbles. ‘You can,’ said Boo. ‘Can you read my mind?’ said Emily. ‘This whole universe is your mind.’ Emily went to reach towards a bubble and the bubble came forward until it increased in size. It looked like she was staring into a round window. In the bubble was an old man and a younger boy. They were sat beside each other at the edge of a river. They both held out fishing rods. The closer Emily looked at the scene the more the scene came alive until it was her universe. She could smell the fresh air and hear the sound of the river running. She could hear the murmur of the conversation as they both talked and joked with each other. She pulled herself away from the bubble and it jumped back into the array of millions of bubbles. ‘What happened to them?’

‘The old man died naturally but the young son died in an accident later and now he is with his grandfather.’ Emily smiled inwardly but then felt nervous. She wondered about her own father and what would his scene be like. ‘Ok. Let’s visit your father just be calm and understand that he will not notice you in the same way.’ And a bubble came forward and she recognised the shape of her father’s back and the straw hat he wore on their holiday to Margate that year. She didn’t need to lean forward as the bubble came to her. She could feel the wind blowing through her hair and smell the fresh air mix with the sharp smell of fish and chips. She heard herself laughing and then saw herself sat down beside her father playing in the sand. Her emotions stirred inside her and she felt sad. It all felt too much for her and she felt an urge to return home. Boo decided to pull her back. And she was back staring into the darkness. She turned to speak to Boo but he was gone. She looked around and could see nothing but then she realized she was back in her body in her bed but still staring into the darkness. She felt for her fingers and wriggled her feet and decided to get out of the bed to ensure she had fully awoken. Emily woke up feeling tired and groggy. She opened the curtains to look outside into her garden and the trees, just to remind herself of where she was. She looked for Boo in the garden but saw nothing but the leaves from the trees swaying in the wind. Out of a dream she had been given a message. A different way of seeing the world, or so she thought.

Chapter 7

Michael was now into his third round of chemo but there was no sign of a let up. The tumour in his pancreas was still growing. He was starting to see that the doctor’s original prognosis of thirty percent survival was realistic. Michael had dropped the running or cycling and taken up a subdued cynicism that he could not share with anyone else. He was expected to be brave for everyone else but he was tired of putting on a smiling face so that he could reassure others that all was well. He sat on the stool in the bar staring at the first pint he was about to drink in fifteen years. Other people battling with cancer had gone out to raise money for charity or extract every ounce from this beautiful world before they went but Michael chose a beer and solitude. He enjoyed the fitness but that was because it made him feel strong and ready to tackle the world. Now he was looking at the darker side of things and didn’t know how to deal with it. His religion was failing him. God had kept him from drinking but he had assumed that would also keep him from further harm as if he was granted a safe age through to his later years. Not so. He lifted the pint and the glass touched his lips and he sank in a couple of mouthfuls. The wooziness of the alcohol washed over him immediately but the warmth of the rush was more memory than alcohol and Michael started to think about the things he had done in the past. The word penance sprung to mind. If he was about to give up his medication then he was about to accept death. He ed an old priest friend he first met while attending his AA groups in the days when he needed to attend and decided to give him a call. ‘Sure I you Michael. How are you?’ ‘Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. I can see why you want to talk.’ The priest lived not too far from Michael so he decided to finish his pint and headed towards the church that his friend preached in. Michael jumped off the bus and noticed the church up ahead. He could see the high wooden doors that were closed and when he got closer he slowly pushed them open. He walked into the empty church and felt a great sense of peace surround him. He could see Christ on the cross at the other end and he bowed his

head and crossed his hand from left to right and top to bottom. He felt a deeper sense of recognition this time than before. The door to the right opened and his friend Father Bletchley walked into the hall. He wasn’t your typical priest. He was built more like a boxer and walked like he was ambling up a mountain. A thick-framed man with a toughened face but infectious smile that had seen things. Father Bletchley or Thomas was a die-hard priest that had served time as an alcoholic much like Michael prior to his conversion and further commitment. His parishioners were reassured by the firm handshakes that greeted them each time they left after service. ‘They shook hands and looked at each other in silence for a few moments. Then Thomas motioned for them to go out back into his ading cottage. Thomas pulled down two heavy round tumbler glasses and a bottle of brandy from the shelves. The ice clinked in the glasses and a strong smell of brandy permeated their company like a long lost friend. ‘You’re being a bit presumptuous Father.’ ‘Judging by the smell of the beer on you and the news on the phone. Can I blame you?’ Michael sat down and grabbed the tumbler in both of his hands. He breathed in the dark odour and he was reminded of an old advert with a big Saint Bernard’s dog which made him smile. He took a sip and the sharp taste made him wince and burned his throat. He felt guilty after so many years of sobriety but death seemed as good an excuse as any to break that bond. ‘It keeps changing from three to six, to ‘we can’t really say’ and the treatment is exhausting me. The baldness I can handle but I feel so sick I feel like I am hanging on for everyone else. We all have to meet our maker in the end.’ Father Thomas was lost for words and took a few sips of his drink while thinking. ‘It’s a bastard and despite my profession. I question it at moments like this.’ ‘I could tell you about how God works in mysterious ways and all that bullshit but it still sticks in the throat which is why we have to have faith.’

Michael sat there staring into his tumbler unsure why he had come. Naturally looking for answers. Definite ones. ‘I seem more resigned and accepting of it even though I am in the dark about what it’s like. Death and all that. Or maybe heaven but who knows.’ Father Thomas finished his drink and slapped his thighs. ‘No words I can offer you can console you at this time. It is up to you how you interpret your faith. Different religions express different ways of dealing with death. Most say it is just a door we through but what a door. The important thing is to find peace within yourself and from God’s point of view you have nothing to be concerned about. Jesus has washed away your sins and all has been forgiven. ‘ Those words struck Michael hard but what else could he expect from a nononsense man like Father Bletchley. He felt reassured that all that had been done wrong in the past had been laid to rest and he could prepare himself for what was to come. Michael allowed the last of the liquor to slip slowly down his throat. The light burning sensation that hit the back of his throat seemed to light up his belly. He shook Michael’s hand and said goodbye leaving the church with less questions than when he’d arrived. Now the whole world around him seemed to be the answer. As he was walking away from the church he reflected on how time had slowed down over the last few months. He would stop as he walked and just stand there. In the rain. Unconcerned as he got wet. Listening to the metallic sounds of food frying machines that were being dropped in and out of fat fryers while he waited for his chips. The world at times seemed to stop for Michael and he had to it it was a beautiful thing. Beautiful in an anguished sort of way. As if in queue with his thoughts the sky did indeed open up and throw down its best for him and Michael started to run towards the bus. It had been many years since he had been drinking alcohol and he was feeling flushed and woozy. As he approached the bus-stop he noticed one of those new age shops on the high street. The window display was covered with wind chimes and Indian feathers. Michael would often scoff at places like these and tell Emily that it was all hog-wash. Wasted money for desperate people. Emily would hit back and say the same about their Christian faith which is what he loved so much about her. Michael could see the bus approaching but decided to take a daft turn and headed straight for the door to the new age shop. As he opened the door the crystals chimed and he was met with a warm sweet scented smell. He could then

hear what sounded like water running and flutes chiming and Michael smirked at himself. As an ex-punk he would have been mortified at being caught in a place as sterilized as this but Michael didn’t feel he had the right to judge anyone. ‘Can I help you?’ asked the lady behind the counter. The woman behind the counter had a t-shirt with the picture of a wolf howling at the moon which Michael quite liked. She was dressed in black jeans and had Indian feather earrings that brushed her bare shoulders. Michael started to browse around the shop. ‘Erm something to relax me I suppose.’ ‘We have a selection of relaxations CDs over there beside the books.’ Michael wandered over to the book and music section and started flicking through the titles. ‘Stressed and Depressed’, ‘How to your Guardian Angel’ ‘Chakra Cleansing’ While Michael was looking an occasional flurry of mad hope would shoot through his body like a rush of adrenaline and he would imagine taking back a few cds back and listening to them then having some sort of miraculous recovery. He stifled a few laughter’s while itting the irony of a man who had been saved by a religion that wrote about angelic beings and heaven, while he himself found that aspect rather cheap and tacky. Michael continued to browse the cds and books until he found a selection of music called harmonics with an array of numbers on the back cover all relating to different conditions. He noticed the numbers 369 which suggested no cure but an access to a universal vibration and Michael was taken back to his earlier days of drugs and freedom and decided on a whim to buy the CD.

Chapter 8

Alan had found an old 1950s style radio that he wanted to use for the StarVehicle. He placed it in the shed for when the frame of the vehicle had been finished. Emily and Tabitha were busy fixing the metal poles together with these heavy ts that looked like they could be used for a giant’s knee-cap. The project was starting to look a little more serious as if they were determined to make the thing actually work. The difference between a six year olds game of imagination and then repeating the same experiment when you were approaching your teens is that one took things a little bit more serious. ‘What’s that for Alan? Music while you fly?’ ‘Well. We can hook the copper coils from the radio to the metal poles and try and induce some kind of vibrational shift. Hardly scientific but it will look good like the head of this metallic robot that I saw on one of the old black and white films my parent would watch.’ Emily and Tabitha looked at each other and decided to let Alan get on with it. ‘You supply the science. We’ll do the design.’ Emily continued to screw in the nuts onto the bolts that held the very large frame together. The project was starting to appear much larger than she had imagined. Tabitha had come up with the idea of covering the large spaces in between with tarpaulin giving the object a more solid feel she had gotten the idea from her Mother who had seen something similar at a Glastonbury festival she had been to. While Emily was wrapping the cloth around the frames she thought she saw Boo again out of the corner of her eye. She momentarily froze. She had not discussed her dreams with her friends or that she had been sleeping less and less recently. She felt as if she had been shown something magical and then just left there. Boo had not appeared in here dreams again. In fact some nights she would have nightmares where all the bubbles would burst and she would no longer be able to visit her father. She would wake up in a sweat feeling dreadful. Her Mother

seemed to be coping better with the loss of their father but it was hard to tell. She had been working longer hours and said less when she came home. Maybe that’s why Boo started to appear during the day. It was the second time she had seen him during the day and this time she wanted to investigate it further. She dropped her tools and went to walk over to where she thought she had seen the cat. As she went behind the fence she froze on the spot. Boo was standing there on his hind-legs. He wasn’t saying or doing anything just sat there like some holographic image. Emily quickly popped her head round to check on her friends and then when she looked back Boo had gone. She felt sick to the stomach. Had she seen something or had she not? She walked slowly back to the climbing frame where Tabitha was measuring tarpaulin. Tabitha could see she looked lost. ‘Are you ok Emily?’ asked Tabitha. ‘Sure fine just not been sleeping lately. Strange dreams.’ Alan nodded at Tabitha. They had arranged that if Emily was not coping to maybe check up on her without prying. Not like spooks but just the odd check to make sure she was fine. ‘I’m always having mad dreams. Basically it’s me kissing this boy who I hate at school and I wake thinking yuck.’ ‘Do you have conversations in your dreams about the universe and death?’ Alan had drawn closer aware of the conversation. ‘I had a dream about Bill Gates once. I was arguing about his new windows operating system and I was like for god’s sake Bill make it open source.’ Emily and Tabitha just stared. ‘So you don’t have conversations in your dreams. Meaningful ones?’ ‘No.’ said Alan, all arguments with Bill Gates but I have heard of lucid dreaming which means you wake up within your dream and can do things.’ Emily wondered if this was what was happening to her. She was waking up in

her dreams but essentially it was all from her own imagination but seeing Boo during the day was causing her confusion and the idea of her father still suffering was creating further stress that she didn’t know how to deal with it. Tabitha could see Emily getting more lost in her internal thinking and thought it best that they take a break. ‘How about we pop to the shops and leave Alan to work out the tech stuff?’ Alan looked up looking suspicious but was happy to be left to add a few more extras to this contraption of a distraction. Both the girls went for a walk to the shops. It was raining lightly and Tabitha held the umbrella above their heads. Emily was quiet at first. It wasn’t just the dream of Boo spilling over into her day but the numbers 369 appearing at different times. She was convinced her father was trying to send her some message but of course if she told anyone else they would think she was mad. She worried about being taken away from her mother so she buried the inconsistencies inside herself unable to tell anyone. As they walked towards the shops she noticed a car by and checked the number plates there was a 3 and 6 but no 9 so she ignored it. Her eyes scanned around quickly until Tabitha broke the conversation. ‘How have you been Emily? It’s been awhile since the funeral I hope you don’t mind me asking.’ It had indeed been awhile. Emily had read several books on grief, and death and dying, and most of them talked of time, and a year, or twelve months but none talked of dreams, or numbers, or a feeling of panic that could grip you inexplicably, or dreams that could turn into nightmares. She hoped the dreams would either go away or at some point reveal something that would make her feel how she felt before her father ed away. ‘Some days are worse than others. I feel that things should have shifted by now but you know it’s difficult.’ She thought about telling Tabitha about her dreams or the numbers but wasn’t so sure. ‘Did I tell you about the numbers 369?’

‘To do with the meditation. The mystical stuff from the internet.’ ‘Yes. When my father ed away he whispered those numbers to me.’ ‘It’s probably just a number and he was very ill at the time.’ ‘I know but it’s weird that the numbers popped up in the car at the funeral do you ?’ ‘I do but things like that can often happen. Sometimes when I’m thinking of a particular car or colour then I see it appearing all around me. My Mum says it’s just coincidence. And the other day when I wanted to have one of those cream mini cars. I kept seeing them popping up all over the place.’ Emily suddenly felt stupid. She withdrew within herself. The idea that her father’s numbers were nothing more than accident and her dreams were unimportant didn’t seem to ring true with her. ‘But you do believe in other worlds and what happens if there is meaning in the numbers. I searched online for some famous philosopher and he talked about the numbers 369 and resonance, and vibrations.’ Tabitha seemed concerned. It was unlike Emily to talk like this. She was talking fast and irrational. She always had a moody side but things never got darker than the twilight series or occasionally listening to Manson or Green Day. Seeing numbers everywhere seemed a bit OCD to her. ‘There might be something to it but I wouldn’t take it too seriously. Maybe you could talk to your Mother about it?’ Emily thought about it but there was a part of her that was attracted to the numbers and the dreams. Even the hallucinations. She believed that she was being shown something special. Maybe her father was trying to tell her something. A place to meet in the future but of course no-on else would believe that. She decided to ignore it for now and keep it to herself. They went into the shops and bought some sweets and drinks for themselves and Alan. They walked back in silence. Tabitha decided to say nothing for now and they chatted further about the pressure of their exams. A cream mini rover car ed them by on the road. They both noticed it. Neither of them said anything.

Chapter 9

Michael sat quietly on the bedroom floor. He took out the cd and placed it in the player. He felt as if he was doing something naughty. And to a man who made his recovery through an established faith listening to a self-help CD seem tantamount to heresy. Something never to be mentioned to another man at work. But as Michael was going through what the books termed his ‘acceptance phase’ then he was looking for ways to relax his mind and body. He felt he was preparing himself for a journey much in the same way an astronaut prepared for going into space. That’s how he saw it. He placed the cd in the player and selected the number 369 and pressed play. As was expected eerie ocean sounds mixed with what seemed like heavy rain, and the sounds of door chimes caused Michael to laugh but he sat down in his Indian yoga position and tried his best to calm his mind. He was surprised to find that after a few minutes he did indeed start to feel calm. He opened his eyes while listening to the sounds and just watched the tree branches outside wave around. He watched a small bird fly down and land on one of the branches and watched it bob up and down. The music continued to play as Michael became deeply engrossed in the world around him. A cloud slowly ed by followed by another larger one. A memory of his daughter running around in the sand during a holiday in Margate. An angry thought concerning those wasted years and the problems he caused his wife. The sorrow. The sadness. The music stopped and Michael looked around the room. At his clothes and things. He thought about packing. He thought about his journey. He liked the meditation. It made him feel calm. He jumped onto his computer and looked up places for meditation. He found a centre in town and made a note of the address. The leaflet on the door said that meditation started at 9PM. Michael was nervous. After the calmness he experienced while listening to the cd he wanted to experience it again and possibly go deeper. He had said his prayers and really felt that there was nothing else to ask. He wasn’t concerned with meeting his maker or worried about the things he had done wrong just wanted to find some peace within himself. He pushed the door open and walked into the room. A few people were sat on benches. There were no elaborate decorations or luxurious ornaments on the walls or floor. He noticed a collection of black and white photographs which depicted men and woman sat down in meditation. They wore

black gowns. Their faces looked serious. A small plaque on the wall said in quotes, “Chop Wood. Carry Water.” Michael was bemused by this. A similar aged man was putting on his black robes and noticed Michael. ‘Have you come for instructions?’ ‘Normally I pray. I haven’t meditated before.’ ‘That’s not a problem. If you come through with me I’ll run through what we do.’ Michael followed the robed man into the ading hall and the man proceeded to show him how to sit. It was a bit more complex than he had imagined. First he was shown a cushion called a Zafu and then was shown how to sit on it. Michael assumed it would be just as simple as plonking yourself on the sofa but there was a reason why the legs were folded in that way. The feet rested on the opposite inner thigh near acupuncture points. The hands were held below the belly button. The fingers of one hand rested on the fingers of another. The opposing thumbs lightly touched each other, ‘neither valley, nor mountain’ said the robed man. Michael did his best to stretch himself into the right posture but it felt like a struggle. ‘Don’t worry. It takes time for the legs to stretch.’

Michael didn’t have time but couldn’t say. He settled for a half-lotus resting one foot on the floor. While engrossed in the man’s instructions he hadn’t noticed the eight or so other men and woman that had walked quietly into the hall and had sat down beside him. They were all bending forward, bowing to the wall in front of them. Then the man left Michael and took his position in the centre of the hall. He rang a bell. Then bowed and that was it. Michael just sat there feeling stupid. He had been told to just focus on his breath coming in and out through his nose and to try his best to maintain his posture. A few minutes ed by and Michael stared looking to his left and right at the other people wondering what was going on in their heads. He wanted to scream at them ‘I have cancer, I’m going to die.’ But he didn’t. People didn’t want to hear that. He went back to the man’s instructions of sitting and following the breath. Feeling the faintest touch of air brush against his nostrils as he breathed in. Feeling his stomach pull in as

he breathed out. He pulled back his shoulders as they started to ache. He moved his right knee for comfort. He felt strong surges of rage and anger swirl around his body. He believed that Buddhists thought all was in the mind which to Michael was the head but here he was feeling his anger in the pit of his stomach wishing he could throw it up. He said the Lord’s Prayer and watched the words spin around and around endlessly. He wondered if a bright white light would come and save him at death. And then he became distracted by the people ing below the window. People rushing home to their families. After a while Michael’s thoughts seemed to quieten and he felt a strong sense of peace. Much stronger than the peace he felt prior to a bed time prayer. This was probably due to the fact that he could never sit for more than five minutes and in this hall it was way over thirty minutes. He was starting to feel a deeper contentment which he had never felt before and then he watched a dew drop slowly make its way down the window pane like the people heading home to work. Then the deep peace was replaced with hunger and thoughts of food and then dinner and his wife and daughter back home. At that point a cascade of emotions rushed down from his head as if in a storm and engulfed his being. He looked to his left and right and everyone else was transfixed in their meditative postures. Tears rolled down his cheeks and somehow he was able to maintain some balance. Even bow and use his hands to wipe the tears away and then go back to his sitting. For the last few minutes banal memories from his different jobs bobbed up and down like small fishing vessels and then went. And then the bell went and they all stood up and shuffled out of the Dojo. Turning and bowing to the Amithaba statue and leaving with the right leg first. Nothing much was said as people dressed and then left, back into the world. As Michael walked up the path towards his house he could see the fake glow from the television lighting up the living room and sensed his wife and daughter sat on the couch close together watching a soap opera together. He stopped for a while wondering what he would say to them. How on earth could he explain such a thing to them? He looked at his house and took in the sky above him. He noticed the partial moon tucked neatly behind a cloud and just felt that he was more a part of that moon, that cloud, that sky; than he was of his family. Emily and Catherine were engrossed in a conversation about soap operas when Michael came in. He took of his jacket and sat down beside them. Catherine could sense that he was bit apprehensive despite the smile and so could Emily.

Emily cleared her throat and made her way into her bedroom while Michael and Catherine moved closer to each other on the sofa. Catherine curled into Michael’s lap and handed him the remote control but Michael’s mind was buzzing with thoughts about whether this was the right time or not. ‘What friend did you go to see?’ ‘I didn’t. I tried a Buddhist thing.’ ‘Buddhist? I thought you were more Christian?’ ‘I am. I went to talk to Father Bletchley the other day as well. I just wanted to try and meditate.’ Catherine sat up. ‘What’s the matter Michael?’ but Catherine knew. They all knew. The answer had been hanging around the house for the last few weeks. It was hidden behind Michael’s new smile. A bit meek. Apologetic. There was less chirpy conversation coming from him and he had cut down on his running. ‘I’m going to stop the medication.’ Catherine sat there not knowing what to say. ‘But you can’t give up. Not now.’ But the way Catherine said it was less forceful, less unsure, as if she too had been carrying around Michael’s problems with him. Another sense told her what and why, and she leaned into him and held him. She kissed him on the cheek and neck and he responded lightly. They both went upstairs to bed. Outside there was a soft moon glow. There was a tree. Two birds sat on a branch. Rustling each other’s feathers. Emily was fast asleep. A cross held in her hand.

For Michael a minute could be an hour in a beautiful way. A drip of water from a tap could be a flower in spring. Although Michael’s pain came from his body his

body felt like he was connected to the outside world. As if he was somehow displaced by his experience. He felt like he had a more expansive view of himself and the things around him. As if he was the room or the plant beside his bed. He took the 369 CD of his desk and pushed it into his cd player. He smiled at the thought that this gimmicky music could bring him as much satisfaction as his strong faith. His faith didn’t seem to matter to him so much anymore. But he kept it going for his daughter. He worried about how she would react after his ing. Their relationship was forged through a certain understanding of god. Heaven was real and we would continue in some form or another. It’s not that Michael did not believe anymore but that he had gained a more expansive view of religion and God. That took in the nature and the stars and the vastness of the universe. Now he would return to the ocean. And he could already feel that in the way he was seeing the world. Like a small child’s view of the world. Of course he couldn’t express that to his family. He had to show another face. He hoped they would understand. Michael had a list of things to say to Catherine and Emily. Apologies and forgiveness for things done wrong in the past but now didn’t seem the right time. His bags were packed and he had decided that it was best to spend those last few weeks in a hospice. Michael had visited the hospice before and it seemed a strange and surreal place to be in. White and silence seemed to permeate the space. Colourful flowers arranged with care. It made sense. He felt himself separating from his family. It was as if they no longer understood him and he no longer understood them. It felt selfish in a way. Michael was experiencing heightened states of joy and serenity mixed with sadness that he couldn’t explain. Moments of clarity between him and nature was like a personal conversation between him and the divine. As Michael placed his clothes into his suitcase Catherine walked into the room and without saying a word started to select certain clothes for him. While Catherine picked one item each of his best clothes he helped tuck them in tidily. No words were said. The sun was shining through the window and Michael could feel the warmth from the sun on his back just as he felt the warmth from having his wife close to him. They both sat kneeling beside the suitcase. Catherine picked up the photograph of their wedding day and the other one of the three of them on holiday. Emily holding both their hands. But Michael took them out again and put them on the table-side, ‘But you’ll need -’ She started and then stopped. ‘You’re both in my hearts and everything around me,’ Again Michael was lost to explain how he felt that his attention was turning inwards

that in one sense he was turning away but couldn’t quite phrase that. He was more concerned for how they would be feeling than for how he was feeling himself. He picked up the cross instead and placed it in his suitcase and then closed the case shut. Catherine placed her arm around his back and pressed her face against his shoulder. They just sat there in silence holding each other. No tears. Just the warmth of the sun.

Chapter 10

Emily’s dreams turned into nightmares and she started to sleep less and less. She expected Boo to return and show her more of this world but instead she was met with bizarre abstract dreams and visions of worlds ending and storms rising. She would wake up in the middle up the night believing an earthquake was about to occur. Her body visibly trembling. Rather than say something to her mother she would breathe through the trembling until it went and then get out of her bed and go to her window staring up at the stars. Boo’s dream suggested a world vastly different than what her father had taught her. In his world God was all and her faith revolved around this fixed view but it felt like his world was coming crashing down and something wider or greater than what was before was being shown to her. While staring out into the night time sky her mind would be lost seeking out individual stars and wondering how far away each one was. She wondered where her god would fit into all this vision of a never ending universe with stars exploding and collapsing. A universe of many universes unimaginably spiralling inwards and outwards, endlessly. Maybe god was all these things and yet none of them. Her visions of Boo were increasing during the day time along with an increase in seeing numbers. If it wasn’t 369. It was 8 or 2. From seeing meanings in her dreams she was starting to see meaning in her day time activities. She was looking for an answer to something an answer to anything. Her mother had noticed her increasingly irrational behaviour and had decided it was time to talk but didn’t want to frighten her. She had arranged for Alan’s mother Jean who was a trained councillor to take them out for a meal and try to gauge how she was feeling. Emily jumped into the back of Jean’s car along with Alan. She buckled up and then sat quietly while Alan clambered in through the other side. As the cars ed by she quickly scanned the number plates, for what, she wasn’t sure. It was as if she was scanning the whole world around her looking for clues but she was unable to stop. She wanted it all to stop but didn’t know how to. She decided to surf the news channels on her phone while heading towards the restaurant. Alan wasn’t in much of a mood himself today but he was aware of what was happening and felt like he was the warm-up act to the main event which made him feel uncomfortable.

‘Had anymore weird dreams recently Ems?’ Emily shifted in her seat unhappy that she would have to break from staring at her smartphone screen. She didn’t want to talk about the dreams. It felt as if she was fibbing on some one. She was still hopeful that all this would fit together and some kind of answer would appear. ‘Usual stuff. My father keeps reappearing as if he’s trapped in something. Earthquakes and then looking up at the stars at night. I’m sure it will all .’ She never told the whole story especially not Boo. She imagined herself stuck in some mental hospital and of course the idea that there was some meaning to all of it still held for Emily some kind of hope. ‘I did read a dream book on meanings and symbolism but at the same time they never seem that consistent. It makes sense you dreaming of your Father. I don’t know about earthquakes but so much is changing in your world. Maybe it’s that,’ said Alan. ‘But what happens if the things you dream about start appearing during the day time. You are the one that told me about the numbers 369 what do you think it means?’ Alan paused for a while he didn’t want to deliver his response in cold hard scientific facts and upset Emily. ‘I it the numbers 369 fascinate me but I don’t get too stuck on it. I read about things and then I forget them. They’re just numbers not facts.’ Emily briefly thought about mentioning her day time visions but wasn’t sure. Maybe all this weirdness would just . Maybe it was better to talk herself out of what she was thinking. ‘What about seeing things during the day?’ ‘What do you mean during the day?’ ‘If the things you dream about start to appear during the day. Not that I do but what would that be?’

Alan thought it best he wait until his Mother gets to the restaurant and didn’t want to unnecessarily upset her. ‘It’s probably just stress.’ ‘Stress?’ ‘Oh yes. Sometimes I think I see things during the day but it’s just sunlight or things moving. Maybe we’ve spent a lot of time on this project and should really go and do something else.’ They both returned to their own thinking and Emily went back to her surfing. Alan’s mother’s car pulled into the driveway and they all got out. They chose one of those American style diners and went inside. Jean pulled aside Alan, and Emily could see them having a conversation. She could sense something was up and felt a sense of relief. She wanted to talk to someone about her problems but didn’t know where to begin. They sat down and ordered their food. Alan ordered the vegetarian burger while Emily went for the pasta option. There was a palpable sense of tension in the air which stifled any attempt at real conversation so food was eaten quickly as Alan made his excuses and departed to play on the gaming machines. He opted for the penny arcades, what with it being a more sedentary game that at least allowed Alan a glimmer of chance into his options, rather than being blown to death by marauding aliens. He watched his mother and Emily have a conversation and hoped that she would get the help she needed. Alan went back to dropping two pence pieces in the slot. Judging the wave of the slide as it went in and out. Knowing that all gambling was about luck but everyone believed there was a way to win. ‘Don’t be too alarmed when I mention this Emily,’ said Jean. ‘Tabitha told me about the numbers and also seeing things during the day. How have you been?’ ‘Fine. It’s not that serious I suppose I got a bit obsessed with the numbers my dad whispered when he ed away and then got carried away with it. I had a few bad dreams and then this strange cat but look it’s just stupid and it’s gone now.’ Jean was looking at Emily intently and could see all wasn’t well.

‘Emily. I am a councillor but there are different types who can help with grief and also these strange ideas. I know of a great psychiatrist who is wonderful to talk to. Would you like to have a chat with him?’ The mere mention of the word psychiatrist caused panic in Emily. She envisioned the worse and could see herself locked in an asylum with dribbling maniacs around her and thought it best to say no more. ‘Sure. We can talk but I think it’s all gone now. Just some silly nightmares and too much stress.’ Jean thought about saying more but could see Emily was not up for conversation. Everything Jean said had a rational response and with every rational response the dreams of her father slipped away and the dreams that the numbers meant something to her. Maybe it was just the emotional attachment or the belief that something, somewhere would happen. An escape from the gnawing sadness that never seemed to leave her. She agreed to see the psychiatrist but was very wary of another person taking away whatever it was she was experiencing. ‘He is just a more experienced person to talk to and will help you deal with what you are feeling.’ ‘I’ll give it a try.’

They finished their dinner and waited for Alan to stop gambling. The journey back was in silence. Inwardly Emily was panicking. She wanted her dreams back. To see Boo again and her father as well. While she knew she was in trouble she also didn’t want to give up what was happening because what else would replace it? Her desire to be with her father was getting stronger and stronger and inside it felt like she was dying. That night she started the breathing exercises again with a greater intent. Hoping and praying for something to happen. She didn’t really want to see the psychiatrist and couldn’t stop her mind from having these troublesome thoughts. Her dreams were of gigantic waves crashing against the shore and stormy clouds across a red horizon. Her father’s face would loom in and out of view and an intense feeling of her needing to save him. Where was Boo? But before she

could question the dream another image would crash into her world. Emily woke up in a bed full of sweat. She needed her father now. It was all she had wanted after his death. Her life just didn’t feel the same without him. She jumped out of bed still half asleep and pulled on her jeans. Quietly she put on her jumper and then tip-toed downstairs while her heart was beating through her chest. She opened the downstairs cloak-room and took out her jacket and a torch. Her face was pulled tight with determination. She knew what to do and where to go. Their house was only a few miles from well-known cliffs-edge. If she walked fast she could make it before her Mother woke up. Emily’s thoughts were turning fast and she couldn’t see that she was still half-sleep. What she really wanted to escape from was the troublesome dreams and inner turmoil.

Emily opened the front door and then closed it quietly and started to walk out of the garden and through the front gate. She pulled her jacket up tightly while the rain dripped heavily onto her head. All she wanted to do was escape her thoughts. Escape her feelings. She had had enough. She started to walk faster and faster as if being chased but it wasn’t too long before she heard her footsteps be matched by someone else and she felt a flood of shame and anger rush into her body.

She ducked her head down and walked faster but the foot steps behind her walked faster too. Emily broke into a run with just the thought of her father on her mind and then she started to panic. Her face became flush and her heart felt as if it was jumping out of her chest. ‘Emily! Please Stop!’ And she stopped. Even though her heart was beating like crazy and she wanted to die she just stopped unable to think anymore. She stood there standing in the rain breathing rapidly. She knew her mother stood behind her but just remained motionless as her heart beat faster and faster. Her Mother crouched down beside her and placed her arms around her. ‘Breath in and out in slow breaths. Try and calm the panic down.’ Emily started to breathe slowly and realize exactly where she was. Emily placed her hand onto her mother’s shoulder for and her mother placed

her hand onto hers. ‘I don’t want to feel like this but can’t get rid of the thoughts.’ ‘Everyone deals with grief differently and you just need some more help in coping.’ By now they were both kneeling down in the road and her mother wrapped her arms around Emily. ‘I don’t want them to put me away. I don’t want to leave you.’ ‘Nobody will put you away. They don’t do that these days. I think we need to find a better use for the imagination of yours but you do need proper help.’ They both stood up and started to walk back down the road. The rain continued to pour down and Emily’s breathing started to calm down. She now realized that she needed help. She just wanted a normal night’s sleep and to get her life back on track. After a cup of tea her mother helped her into bed and sat on the end of the bed until she fell asleep. The following morning her mother opened her bedroom door but Emily was curled up under her quilt lying there motionless. She felt like she was made of stone. She just stared at the wall trying to understand what it was she had tried to do last night. She just wanted a break from the nightmares and wanted to start to feel good again but didn’t know how to. Her door opened and she closed her eyes. ‘Emily. We have the doctor here for you he wants to have a quick chat.’ The doctor came into her room and her mother left. The doctor seemed quite young but was dressed in clothes that reminded her of Sherlock Holmes. She sat up in her bed and adjusted her pillow. Emily started to sit up and pulled up her pillows to rest herself against the headrest. The doctor sat down at the end of her bed. ‘Hi Emily. Your mother told me about these thoughts and dreams. How are you?’ Emily stared out of the bedroom window not focusing on anything.

‘It seems the dreams and thoughts started off well but then became worse. Unpleasant. I thought they meant something and started to see things during the day.’ ‘Can you explain what you saw during the day?’ The doctor had a notepad and pen ready. ‘I suppose I was dreaming of a cat. I know it sounds silly and then a couple of times thought I saw the cat during the day time.’ ‘Did it appear real and solid?’ ‘It was just a quick flash. Uncertain.’ ‘And then there are numbers. My father had whispered these numbers and then I started to see them appear in the day time and thought it meant something. Then I would follow other things like numbers or colours. I don’t really know why.’

The doctor made some further notes while Emily went back to looking out of the window. The doctor then took out a thermometer and checked her temperature. She took out a spatula and doctors pen with torch light and looked into her eyes and mouth.

‘Well Emily you’ll need to come in for further checks. Your Mother mentioned you are already seeing a psychiatrist and we’ll move that forward for you. Please don’t worry. You are probably experiencing high anxiety with mild psychosis but it’s not too serious. This has been caused through continuous stress and a lack of sleep which is hardly surprising. You have been through so much.’ The doctor pulled out a handkerchief to hand to Emily. ‘Will they lock me up?’ ‘Don’t be silly. You need some help in dealing with your grief and looking at your thoughts. The psychiatrist will help you get back to normal thinking again.

In the meantime I’m going to give you a very low-dosage medication to help you relax and sleep better at night. All will be well in a few months.’ The doctor placed his arm against Emily’s shoulder and gave a reassuring smile and then left to speak to her mother.

Emily took the first pill with some water and then went upstairs to lie down. She flicked on some day-time television and allowed the noise from the presenter, who was attempting to peel apart the warring couple, distract her from her own internal noise. After a while she felt her worries slip away and the sickly gnawing feeling in her stomach disappeared. She then felt herself yawn widely and dropped into a deep dreamless sleep.

Chapter 11

The approach to the mental health unit looked daunting. While the building itself didn’t appear too bad, a semi-detached Victorian house with large bay windows and deep red brick work. It was the ten foot high signpost and the words ‘mental health’ that hit Emily hard. She didn’t think she was that bad. She walked and talked like everyone else. It was just the internal mind that may not have been working so well. Emily and her mother opened the door and they walked inside. The décor was pleasant with posters and leaflets on bill-boards advertising different groups along-side abstract paintings from previous patients. ‘My daughter is here for an appointment. Emily Greaves.’ The receptionist busied her-self looking at the computer screen. ‘That’s an appointment at 09:30 with Dr, oh you have the same surname, Dr Greaves.’ Straight away Emily thought, ‘coincidence’. And considered it a good sign. They both went into the waiting room and sat down. There were three other older people in the room and Emily noted their ordinary appearances. One man looked particularly scruffy with dirty jeans and unwashed hair and appeared moody. Another woman was a well-dressed office girl with her hair tied back, busy inspecting her fingernails. They appeared as normal as anyone else and this made Emily feel at ease. She sat quietly reading some of the flyers tacked to the notice board. One flyer was about hearing voices and Emily started to panic wondering if she too heard voices or was that just her internal chit-chat. ‘Emily Greaves?’ Emily looked up to see an older man smiling at her. He reminded her of a University professor with his old fashioned waistcoat and unkempt curly hair. He had a kind smile and was carrying an old diary in his hand. Emily and her mother stood up and her mother pointed to the cafe sign and made her excuses.

‘Would you like to come with me Emily? I have booked a room just down the corridor.’ Emily smiled and got up walking behind the doctor as they went in search of the room. The doctor opened the door to an office type room that was sparsely furnished. Emily walked in and noticed the three chairs, two comfortable ones and one solid plastic chair. She sat down on the one by the window. It reminded Emily of the Head Masters office at school. The only things remotely human about the office was the purple lily flowers in the window and the cream box of tissues that were sat beside the low slung table. The tissues seem to act as a barrier between herself and the psychiatrist. Emily tucked her hands under her legs and waited while the psychiatrist sat down. He placed his book and pen on the table in the middle and then smiled at Emily. ‘Well. Hello Emily. Nice to see we have the same surname. I hope you feel comfortable in these slightly stale surroundings. Your mother mentioned you had been having a few problems recently I wondered if you would like to talk about them.’ For a few seconds. No words would come out. She could see them lined up in her head but started to realize how much she had got caught up in her own private world. ‘Just some bad dreams and seeing things.’ Emily again checked her thoughts wondering which ones to talk about. Wondering if she would be locked up because of them. ‘Dreams can be quite vivid sometimes and frightening as well. I suppose with your fathers ing it must have been incredibly stressful time for you.’ She wondered whether she could trust this man but at the same time knew there was nowhere else to go. ‘I suppose as soon as I start to talk about it. I feel stupid. It takes away the sting from the dreams. I mean a stupid cat. What was that all about? And my father too. It seemed all real but I suppose it was the numbers that he said in the beginning that made me think it meant something.’ ‘What numbers were those?’

‘Just 369. I thought he said that and then when I was out in town I would see and hear the numbers. I thought maybe he was trying to tell me something or send me a message.’ Emily stopped for a while not wanting to say anymore. Her mind was jumping back to the different things said and the incidents that had occurred. ‘The world and our dreams can be a strange place. Sometimes it can appear that there are these amazing coincidences. I suppose like our names being the same and that’s ok. It’s a big world. It’s when we start to place too much meaning onto them that a problem might start to occur. I can understand that in your inability to deal with your father’s grief you might want to believe a lot more than you would in the things around. Trying to make sense of the world.’ Emily felt a sigh of relief. The doctor made her sound normal and she felt a bit more confident. ‘But what about the cat? My dreams have been so intense and the things he said in the dreams would occur during the day. I thought I started to see things during the day.’ ‘If I told you these affects can be brought on by lack of sleep and stress would you believe me?’ Emily shrugged her shoulders. To think that all her problems had come from no sleep and stress. Didn’t seem right. ‘Not just work related stress but the stress of losing your most loved one. Often the parent is like your rock so when you lose one you no longer feel grounded. The world around you can appear unreal. It’s understandable that you seek reassurance in your dreams. And they appear more real than your daytime world. A place to escape to from the suffering. I believe what you are experiencing is elements of a psychosis combined with the grief.’ Emily was wary of that word psychosis. It didn’t sound good. ‘You are coming to with a great loss and death at an early age and struggling to understand it but it will be fine in the end. Most patients recover. What have you been doing to keep yourself busy?’

Emily thought about the star-vehicle and again felt a twinge of embarrassment. It still sat in the garden like an encumbered giant waiting to be dismantled. ‘Building a star-vehicle, sounds silly, but we or I wanted to build things like we used to when we were younger. It reminded me of the time when I used to build sand castles with my fath -’ Emily gulped and then gritted her teeth. Her eyes filled and she covered her face and started to let go of the deep grief that she had been holding onto all this time. The doctor ed the box of tissues to Emily and patiently waited for her to compose herself. Outside the window clouds drifted past. ‘It sounds stupid to build a star-vehicle as if something or someone or anything really will come along and tell me that my father is fine and resting in peace.’ There was a moment of silence between them. ‘I’m quite sure he is in peace and maybe you need to find a bit of peace in yourself.’ There was a moment of silence while Emily just stared at the tissue box and up at the clock on the wall. ‘I suppose this is the point when you say time is a great healer?’ The doctor laughed. ‘Yes Emily time is a great healer. So is exercise, brisk walks. Healthy food. Plenty of sleep and a hobby not so personally connected to your father. Emily agreed. ‘How is the medication going?’ ‘Yes. It’s fine. I seem to function normally and sleep well.’ ‘Keep taking them. It’ll take a few weeks or months while things die down and then we can discuss coming of them.’ The clock-hands made their way around the clock until the allotted time was up.

They both arranged another time to meet and Emily said goodbye. Emily walked outside feeling a little bit heavy but also very light. She stood outside waiting for her mother to come and breathed in deep lungful’s of air. The relief she felt was immense just too finally talk to someone and have a name for her experience made her believe there was an end to this pain. While Emily sat in the back she looked up at the open sky and for once she could discern smiling faces in the clouds not monsters or demons. For the first time since her father ed away she was feeling grounded. She noticed the numbers 6 and 9 on a house and onished herself for doing so but realized it would take its time to get back to some rational thinking as Alan would say. Emily stood staring at her star-vehicle. A vehicle to another dimension indeed. An escape from reality while coping with grief more like. These past few weeks she had started to feel her old self again. Her cheekiness was coming back and the desire to stay in her bedroom was replaced with more time out with friends at the weekend. Hanging out in shopping malls, eating burgers and sipping cokes. Her delusions and day time visions had decreased and she had managed to reduce her medication to only three times a week. As everyone kept saying, it takes time. Time to grieve. Time to heal. Time to recover. Her mother called her in from outside. ‘What?’ ‘It’s a package from the hospice.’ Emily looked at the square parcel sat on her table containing her father’s last possessions. She had forgotten about things over the last few weeks and there was a faint heaviness in her gut. ‘Shall I put it away for a few weeks? It’s probably not that important.’ ‘No. It’s fine. I’ll take it upstairs if you don’t mind?’ She picked up the parcel while her mother went back to cleaning the cupboards. She went upstairs into her bedroom and closed the door and placed the parcel on the floor. She felt a warm rush of emotion flowing outwards from her stomach. She peeled back and carefully tore away the sell-o-tape and paper. It was just a cardboard shoebox nothing special. She lifted the lid on the box and saw piles of papers inside. A wallet. The back of a framed picture. The edge of a key ring.

She lifted the framed picture and turned it over. It was a photo taken from a holiday in Broadstairs. Emily was eight at the time. Pulling a face. Squeezing her head through the gap between her Mother and Father who were all arms around waists and smiling. She placed it to the side on the floor and then picked up the papers. Underneath she noticed a cd and when she turned it over the numbers 369 jumped out at her. She froze but knew the worst of the problem was over. Underneath the number were the words, ‘relaxation cd’ the thought of her father trying to relax in those last few days was painful. Was that all her father was trying to say? Emily felt a brief surge of anger rise when she thought of the ridiculous journey she had just been on. She wanted to throw the CD against the wall. 369 indeed. She opened the CD and inside was a folded piece of paper. She took out the piece of paper and unfolded it. On the front of the cover was the title, ZAZEN. There was a photo of a man seated in a meditation posture. He looked quite serious. There was a time and meeting place to go and sit. Emily took the piece of paper and placed it in her pocket. She closed the box and then went back downstairs. She went outside and started to dismantle the star- vehicle.

Epilogue

ZAZEN 7:00 PM 6:40 PM Instructions (Please bring loose clothing)

Brunswick Studio, Hardwick

Emily walked up the steps just like her father did. The door to the Dojo was slightly ajar and she felt nervous as she walked in. The two or three people who were sat in the room looked up at Emily. She being the youngest one there. One woman was dressed in a black gown and had her arms folded inside the gown. She approached Emily. ‘Have you come for instructions?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Have you ever tried meditating before?’ ‘Only a little on my own.’ The woman proceeded to show Emily how to sit. The room was very bare except for some square mats on the floor and a couple of large circular cushions. The woman took two cushions and placed them on top of the square mats and proceeded to show Emily how to sit.

‘Of course. If you can’t cross your legs in full lotus then just put them in as comfortable position as possible. Emily seemed quite pleased that she was able to manage the full lotus straightaway. ‘Well. Done. A natural Buddhist.’ Emily was then shown a walking meditation as well and how to walk around the room half-way through the meditation. A few more people filled up the small space that was the dojo. Some dressed in black gowns or kimonos as she was told and others wore just loose sweat pants. Emily stood around for a few minutes thinking about her father and that he too would have sat here. Then one man started to knock a piece of wood which was the sign for everyone to sit down and get ready to meditate. Emily walked to her cushion and bowed to it then turned around and bowed to the person in front of her. She then sat down on top of her cushion and folded her legs. The woman who instructed was sat at the head of the dojo and she rang a bell three times and everyone bowed once again and started to meditate. Emily just sat there wondering what she was supposed to do. She was told to not worry too much about the thoughts in her head and just let them come and go as they please and if she was distracted to try and bring her focus back to her breathing. Hundreds of thoughts and memories circled around her mind as she tried her best to focus on her breath. She was sat in front of a window and could hear the traffic outside but she would have preferred birds chirping or the howl from the wind. She wondered what her dad had got from doing this prior to his ing. Emily just felt hungry and at times bored. The bell rang and it was time to walk around the dojo. Everyone stood up and curled one hand into a fist which sat inside the other. They walked very slowly. Each foot step mirroring each inhalation and exhalation. The bell sounded again and they walked a little faster around the dojo until they came to their cushions and sat down again. Again the thoughts would circle and fly around her mind but this time a little slower. At times it felt frustrating as her mind wandered to a forgotten memory or a desire to do something. She then noticed the rain drops falling onto the window pain and decided to focus on the rain trails dribbling down the window. Her breathing and thoughts slowed a little more. And then she focused on just one small rain drop separating from all the other trickles making its way on its

own. Her breathing slowed again and her thoughts slowed even more. And then it felt like she was the rain drop. Slowly making her way across the window pane. Slower than all the other drops of rain and Emily’s thoughts seemed to disappear and she felt at peace within herself and imagined this was how her father would have felt just before he ed away. She could see the glow from the traffic lights below as they changed from green to red. A car pulled up and stopped outside. Coming faintly from inside the car she could hear that song. 3-6-9 The goose drank wine, The monkey chewed tobacco On the street car line. The line broke. The monkey got choked. And they all went to heaven in a little row boat.