Mike Shevdon: The Eighth Court

She sat up in bed. “Ten minutes! I can’t get ready in ten minutes! What am I going to wear?”

I stood up and went to the door. “You have clothes on the bed. Your mother won’t care what you’re wearing. It’s you she wants to see, not your clothes.”

“But-”

“Ten minutes,” I repeated, and shut the door behind me.

Outside I took three deep breaths and went downstairs to wait for her.

The figure slipped into the open-sided barn, melting into the shadows within. “Are you there?”

“Are you sure you weren’t followed?” The voice was almost a whisper.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

There was a long pause.

“Tell me,” instructed the voice.

“What about my side of the bargain?”

“All in good time.”

“There’s nothing happening. Nothing significant.”

“I’ll decide what’s significant,” said the voice.

“The discussions are endless. The courts are in stalemate. Teoth and Krane are opposing them, while Kimlesh, Yonna and Mellion are in support. Barthia doesn’t know which side to choose. It’s the same as last time.”

“That in itself is informative,” said the voice. “And you?”

“I don’t have a choice.”

The voice laughed softly. “No, you don’t. How is it?”

“The same.”

“Nothing is certain. The sooner the better.”

“I need to know.”

“And risk exposure? The time will come soon enough. Have faith.”

“Easy for you to say.”

There was another long pause.

“Are you there?”

When there was no reply, the shadow slipped away.

In the basement, ten minutes had come and gone. I paced up and down, wondering how long to wait before I went back up and tried to oust Alex from her bedroom. Going back up would re-set the clock and she would be at least another 15 minutes after that, but equally she could have retreated back under the quilt with no intention of appearing, leaving me to pace up and down.

I glanced again at the door, steeling myself to go back up there, when it opened. Standing nervously in the doorway was an Alex I’d never seen before. She’d somehow tamed her hair into a style that framed her face with dark curls. There were gold studs in her ears, which I couldn’t remember ever seeing. She had a royal-blue sweater over a long, flowing maroon skirt that came down to her ankles, and she was wearing a pair of low-heeled court shoes.

“What do you think?” I shook my head and she looked panicky. “You think it’s too much?” she asked.

“No, no. It’s not you, it’s me. For some reason I thought I was the father of a young girl. Then this woman appeared and I… Your mother’s not the only one who’s got some adjusting to do.”

She smoothed her hands down her skirt and smiled hesitantly at that. “We should go,” she said.

I stepped forward to the Way-node, glancing back to her. “You know where we're going?” I asked her.

“I'll be right behind you.”

I stepped forward onto the Way and felt the power rise beneath me. In a moment I was whirled away across the deepest night.

The advantage of using the Ways is that you can cross a great distance in no time at all. The disadvantage is that they don’t always end up where you want to go. While Alex and I were soon in the suburbs of London, we still had to walk to our destination.

“How much further is it?” Alex asked me. “These shoes aren’t meant for walking.”

“Aren’t they?” I asked her. “I thought you’d just, you know…?”

“What?” she said.

“I thought it was just glamour — all the clothes and make-up?”

“It’s real,” she said. “Which is why I’m going to have blisters.”

“I could give you a piggy-back,” I told her.

“We are not doing piggy-backs, not when I’ve gone to all the trouble to look nice for Mum. Have you any idea how much this skirt will crease?”

“No one has to know. You can hide it all if you want to.”

“Mum will know.”

“How?”

“How the hell do I know? She just will, that’s all. It can’t be that far, surely?”

“If we cut through here, it’ll be quicker,” I said, heading for a grassy pathway between some houses.

“Dad!”

“What?” I said, threading my way past the brambles that overhung the path. She stood at the entrance to the pathway, her hands on her hips in exactly the pose that her mother used when she was exasperated with me. “What?” I repeated.

“You’re not expecting me to go through there in a skirt and these shoes, are you?”

I glanced down the path. It was rather muddy in the middle and a self-seeded elderberry had taken most of the width of the path about halfway along.

“OK, maybe not,” I agreed, returning to her. “I was just trying to save your feet.”

“Next time,” she said, “We’ll ask one of the drivers to bring us down.” It made her sound just like her mother.

When we reached the avenue where Katherine and I had once made our home together, I deepened the glamour around us. Given the changes in her these past few months, I thought it unlikely that Alex would be recognised as the girl who’d been killed in a tragic accident, but it didn’t hurt to be cautious. I rang the bell and there was a long pause.

“Maybe she’s gone out,” said Alex. “Maybe they were called away to attend to a sick friend. Maybe…”

A shadow grew through the translucent glass and I recognised Katherine’s outline. She unlocked the door and opened it, standing back to let us in, and then stopped. I watched her look from me to Alex, and then back to me.

“Hi Mum,” said Alex.

“Alex? I thought, that is… come in, both of you.”

In preparation for this moment, I had spent time with Katherine, briefing her, explaining a little about the gifts that Alex had inherited from me and what that might mean. She had greeted the whole thing with scepticism and had been adamant that it made no difference. Alex was still her daughter, nothing had changed. But now that her daughter was there in front of her, I could see that wasn’t true. Lots of things had changed. She pushed the door closed behind her, turning her back on it and assessing us both.

“I was just… I need to finish getting your room ready.” The lie was apparent to both Alex and me. I’d warned Katherine that Alex would be able to tell if she was untruthful, but it clearly hadn’t sunk in.

“What’s wrong with my room?” said Alex.

“Nothing, darling. It’s just-”

Alex turned and bounded up the stairs, despite the sore feet and impractical shoes.

“Not yet!” said Katherine. “It isn’t… ready.” It was too late. Alex was upstairs before either of us could react.

“I was trying to… you might as well come up and see for yourself.”

She led the way upstairs to the room at the back of the house that had been Alex’s until the accident. I knew Katherine’d had it redecorated and fitted out as an office for Barry. I hadn’t expected what she’d done with it since discovering that her daughter wasn’t dead.

Alex was standing in the room turning round slowly, taking it all in. Katherine watched her. From the doorway I could see the boy-band posters on the walls, the way the light from the new pastel-blue curtains caught on the sparkly headband on the mirrored dressing table. I could see the new bed with the matching duvet cover. She had gone to a great deal of trouble to re-create a teenage girl’s bedroom, only to have a young woman stand in it with an expression of complete bemusement on her face.

“Ah,” I said, breaking the silence.

Alex looked at her mother and must have seen something there because she leapt forward and hugged her fiercely. “Thanks, Mum.” She said. “It’s… lovely.”