Mike Shevdon - Sixty-One Nails

"It was all so confusing, so fast." It was ironic since we had spent half a day down there. "There was a hall, with a high vaulted roof, all in darkness and surrounded by water. In the middle there was this thing, like an altar, only caked in weeds and stuff. What does it mean?"

"The visions are like that. They are fragments from your possible future. They are not precise. That was why I was so surprised when she said what she did, about your name I mean. It's just not like her."

"You care about her, don't you?" It was impossible not to hear the worry in her voice.

"She's very old. Each time I go to see her I wonder if it'll be the last. She was there for me when no one else was."

"So you're not related?"

"No. Whatever made you think…?" She paused. I tried to look interested in a watch shop we were passing but she had stopped and I had to stop too. I had no idea where we were going.

There was a long silence while she just looked at me. I felt as if I was being punished for something out of my control, but at that moment my entire life was out of my control. I didn't know enough to be able to make judgements any more. I only knew how to ask questions.

She sighed as if resigning herself to something, then gathered herself together and straightened her shoulders.

"Tonight you need to clear out of your flat. Remove anything that identifies your daughter or anyone else you care for. Either arrange for your things to be sent somewhere safe and anonymous or else destroy them completely. Don't leave any link that could be taken as a clue. Not souvenirs, nor photographs, nor letters, understand? Nothing that will give you away."

I nodded, feeling cold inside. I recognised the signs, I had been dumped before. She was cutting me loose.

"Sever your ties with the flat and with your current existence. Settle your bills only if you can do it tonight and be out by morning. Take only what you can run with. Carry too much and it'll probably kill you. Take a little non-perishable food with you, you don't know where your next meal is coming from. Leave nothing. Understand?"

"I am to leave nothing." But she was the one who was leaving.

"Head back into central London tomorrow morning. You'll be harder to find in the city."

"I understand." I wanted to say something that would persuade her to stay with me but her expression ruled out any appeal.

"OK. Now go and do it."

We stood there.

"Well go on then," she said.

"Where shall I meet you tomorrow?"

"I'll find you," she said, but there was a hint of something else in her voice: not a lie, but not the truth either.

"Promise?"

"Just go. And watch your back." She was exasperated, impatient for me to leave.

I waited a moment more but there was no sign of the promise I'd hoped for. She had become my mentor and my guide, but she'd indicated from the start that it wouldn't last. My curiosity had led me to push her that little bit too hard and now she was pushing me away.

Reluctantly, I turned and walked towards the tube station. Like Orpheus, who was warned not to look back, I turned to see whether she was watching me go. There was no sign of her. I hadn't really expected there to be. I was on my own. Well, I could do alone when I had to. I had been there before.

I walked past the open doorways threading my way through tourists and commuters until I made it to the tube station. The rush-hour was starting to build so that the noise in the ticket hall was a constant clamour of voices, barriers thumping closed and announcements that were barely intelligible over the general hubbub. I merged with the stream of people and stepped onto the escalator, letting it carry me down as people too impatient for its steady descent jostled past.

Trying to keep aware of the people around me, I looked for signs of unusual behaviour in the crowds. It was like looking for a blade of grass in a hayfield. So many people in London looked strange, it was impossible to discriminate. I settled for trying to look anonymous.

I took the first train heading south and west. Tired-looking commuters mixed with early evening socialites, packing themselves in until there was no room to breathe. If I was caught here there was no escape. Strangely though, pressed in with my fellows, I felt safer than I had on the backstreets. If someone wanted me then they would have to push past twelve other people to get to me, or at least that's what I told myself.

As the stops got further out, the press thinned, allowing me to take a seat and look around. No one looked remarkable, but as I said, this was London. I found myself thinking back through the day looking for the flaw which would reveal the punch-line, the key to the joke I didn't get. Instead I was left with only a sense of lingering paranoia. At the same time, the day seemed unreal, as if it had happened to someone else. I had met Gramawl and Kareesh, but had I really? Did they really exist? The train rattled down the tracks, but I couldn't help feeling that somehow I was on the wrong line.

A young woman was sitting across from me. She was browsing through one of those magazines filled with candid pictures of D-list celebs and their hangers-on. I found myself wondering if she was what she appeared to be. What if she was Fey too? She looked a little too glossy, a little too perfect to be natural. How many Fey were there? Were they all around us? She looked up. Her eyes were ice blue. Now that I looked closer, you could see that she was not a natural blonde.

"What?" she mouthed at me over the clatter and rumble of the train. Her grimace broke the spell, as I realised I had been calmly examining her while she looked back. I found myself blushing deeply at my breech of tube etiquette.

"I'm sorry, I was… never mind."

"Weirdo!" she mouthed back. Rattling her magazine, she went back to browsing.

I tried not to look at her for the rest of the journey.

At my stop I disembarked and waited on the platform until the train departed and the platform cleared, looking suspiciously at anyone who lingered. I picked out my ticket, climbed the stairs to the barrier and exited into the empty street where late-opening shops tempted the newly arrived commuters to alcohol and convenience foods. Self-consciously I walked past, trying to act like everyone else, to be like them without ever having thought about what that meant. How did you walk? What did you look at? What thoughts were in your head? So many times I had walked this way and had never given a moment's thought as to whether it looked normal or not.

The suburban streets were damp and the street lights did little but highlight the shadows. I followed the route to my flat scanning the gardens along the front of the houses without any notion of what I was looking for. She said that the thing hunting me might know where I would go. Did that mean it might know where my flat was? Could it be waiting for me?

My front door was dark, as I had left it. I turned the key and pushed the door open, hearing only the distant rumble of traffic and the background city murmur. Stepping inside I closed the door behind me. I stood, silent at the bottom of the stairs leading up to my flat, not sure what I was listening for.

Berating myself for making something out of nothing, I spurred myself into motion, stepping stealthily up, avoiding the stair that creaked and staying close to the wall, sliding up to eye-level where the stairway turned a right-angle at the top onto my hallway and checking that the doors were all shut and the flat was as I had left it.

I went to the first door, throwing it open onto my L-shaped sitting room to reveal only the battered sofa and chair my parents had given me, my television and the stereo. The street lights through the window made shadows across the rug. Stomach tight with apprehension, I turned on the lights, then prodded behind the curtains and peered behind the sofa.