Syd Moore - The Drowning Pool

‘She is. You know the wonders of technology can reach out across the miles. Do you have Skype on your trendy new internet?’

I nodded.

He wrote her handle on a piece of paper. ‘I’ll send her an email this afternoon and let her know you may call. Do it. She won’t think you’re nutsville, which everyone knows you are anyway. Give her a try. Seriously, it might just be worth talking to someone. If not to put the whole thing to rest, at least to let off steam at someone who’s odder than your good self.’

That night I settled Alfie early. It took a while as he was agitated and didn’t want to be on his own but eventually his tired little body won over his restless mind and he fell asleep. and I was able to go downstairs and have a little me-time.

The living room was dark, the windows onto the street were still open and yet hardly any noise drifted in. There was no hum of traffic or doors slamming, only the calm of Monday evening hibernation.

I dug into my pocket and pulled out John’s sister’s details. ‘Put it to rest,’ he had said.

He was right. I wasn’t passive by nature. Well, there was no time like the present.

In the kitchen I set up my laptop, pressed the on button and poured myself a glass of red as the Skype loaded onto my home page.

I took a sip and entered Marie’s details into the contact box.

The woman who popped up seconds later on the video stream had John’s easy eyes, his pronounced chin, which suited him more than her, and his heavily textured voice softened by a slight East Coast twang. She was lean, with a healthy tan, and in her mid-to late thirties.

‘Hi,’ I said.

She grinned at me, her image pixellating slightly as the information whizzed through the modem. ‘Sarah?’

In the smaller video screen to the bottom right of the monitor I could see an image of myself disintegrating into little blocks and reintegrating again.

‘Yes, hi. You’re Marie?’

She nodded, a big, shaggy mane of mahogany hair tumbling about her shoulders as she did so. ‘John said you might phone sometime. I didn’t think it would be so soon. You OK?’

‘You look like John,’ I said, changing the subject. It was odd having a face-to-face conversation with someone you would probably never meet in the flesh.

‘Yes, we’re related.’ She tossed her head back as she laughed. Same gesture as John. I wondered briefly what their parents were like.

I raised my eyebrows and shook my head. ‘Of course. Sorry. This is a bit weird isn’t it?’

She leant closer to the screen as if scrutinizing my image. ‘You mean Skyping or your situation?’

I hadn’t expected her to bring it up so soon. ‘Well, er, both really.’

She grinned again showing good, strong teeth. ‘Not in California, honey, believe me!’ I think she winked but it could have been a time delay on the screen. ‘Do you fancy a cup of chamomile?’ she asked.

‘I think I might have a glass of red if it’s not too early for you?’ I raised my glass to the screen and laughed. She saw it and nodded. ‘Normally I’d join you but it’s not yet noon here, honey. The neighbours would talk.’

There was a lot of John’s comfortable easiness about her, which made me relax more than I’d anticipated.

‘Gimme forty seconds,’ she said, ‘and I’ll be all yours.’

‘OK.’

Marie had a pleasant living room. Behind the empty wicker chair on screen there was a white stucco arch that led out onto what looked to be a wooden deck furnished with tropical plants. The room was full of bright late morning sunlight and crammed with bookshelves and more plants. Pictures on either side of the walls spoke of a love of contemporary art and esoteric objects. I was trying to place one of the paintings when Marie’s torso filled the screen. A porcelain mug bearing a picture of a cat came into view followed by her shoulders and head.

‘Right,’ she took a sip of tea. ‘Fire away. It started with a cockleshell? Am I right?’

I bit my lip, unsure of whether to mention my appointment with Doctor Cook. Marie read the slight pause as hesitation. ‘Hey, honestly you don’t need to tell me everything. I’m just assuming that as you called you needed some advice.’

‘No. It’s not that. It’s just— Oh, never mind …’ and I started at the beginning.

Several minutes later I reached the Saturday night climax. ‘I can’t describe it. I’m pretty sure it was female and human, or had been once upon a time. Long gown, black hair …’ I was speaking quickly, gabbling. ‘But I got this awful feeling of tragedy. You know I’ve felt that before. I’ve been through loss. But this was kind of saturating. Overwhelming. Like drowning. Like the feeling I came back with from the Drowning Pool. That’s what this is about.’

At this point I realized I must have sounded insane as Marie’s eyes widened and her eyebrows rose virtually up into her hairline. She shuddered and moved back momentarily from the webcam.

I stopped. My shoulders were aching with tension so I too sat back into my chair with a small sigh. My breath vaporized in front of me. Instinctively I thought of smoke and reached for my cigarette packet. ‘Oh God. Sorry. This sounds so nuts, I know.’

Marie looked sort of frozen and for a second I thought I’d lost the connection, and then I saw her breathe in. ‘It’s OK,’ she said, with a tremor to her voice that had been absent before. I guessed she wanted to stop and get away from her brother’s mental mate as soon as possible. I cursed myself and took a cigarette from the pack.

‘Marie. I can’t believe I’m telling you all this.’ I paused and pulled on the fag. ‘Perhaps I am ill?’

‘Sarah, it’s OK …’ Marie had leant forward and was looking intently into the screen. Her voice was purposefully gentle but I could make out worry lines streaking across a forehead that had had clearly lost some of its ruddiness.

‘I can tell from your face that you must think I’m crazy. I don’t blame you. I shouldn’t have …’ I shivered involuntarily. The room had grown cold. Very cold.

She broke in. ‘Sarah, listen – I believe you.’

But I wasn’t listening. ‘… Skyped you. Perhaps I am nuts. Saturday night just felt real.’ And then her words sank in.

On the computer her head nodded.

‘You believe me?’

Her face was filling the screen now so it was easy to see her swallow and hesitate.

‘Why?’ I said, fixing onto the whites of her eyes.

She paused and then in a very slow voice she said, ‘Because I can see her. She’s standing behind you.’

It’s difficult in retrospect to try and describe how I felt at that moment. You always imagine you’re going to behave in a certain way then when bad things happen, you can surprise yourself. I had thought I’d be one to run screaming from the house. Maybe stopping to get Alfie first.

But I didn’t.

My body seemed to react to what Marie was saying before my brain processed the words. I had been about to light the cigarette but as realization dawned, my right hand froze mid-air, gripping the lighter tightly. My left, which had been idling on my lap, clutched the arm of the chair. Across my back and down my arms, goose bumps crawled. I stared back at Marie, utterly petrified.

She was easing herself back into her chair. ‘I’m not getting any sense of antagonism from her, Sarah.’ Her movements were controlled and tense but she smiled. ‘I can see her outline. It’s like she’s wearing an old dress. Victorian? I can’t tell. She keeps fading out. Now she’s like a shadow.’

I kept my eyes firmly on her face and avoided the smaller rectangular image in the lower right-hand corner, the one that showed me in situ. This was weird and getting weirder by the second.