Linn Halton - Falling:

“Eeek,” his voice is almost a squeak. “Poor you! Red is so draining, you’ll have to do a fake tan or you’ll look like a ghost with your pale skin and hair.”

“Oh yes, and arrive looking like I’ve just stepped off of the beach in the middle of winter? I think not. Maybe I can convince her red for the bridesmaids isn’t such a great idea. See you tomorrow.”

“Night, night, don’t let the bed bugs bite,” he says soberly. There’s a hint of something in his voice, I’m not sure what exactly. Maybe he’s worried that if I am promoted he’ll have a new boss to contend with.

Chatting with Alex has at least left me feeling a little happier and upbeat. He always cheers me up and I’m so grateful that aside from being work colleagues, we’re really good friends.

***

Setting everything up for the ‘Good Day Sunshine’ campaign leaves Alex and I very little time to think about who is going to replace Scott. Mason keeps close tabs on progress and for the first time seems to be a little more approachable. July quickly passes and August is upon us before the workload eases up. I’m pleasantly surprised when I have my first fitting for ‘the dress’ to find that Anna has picked a pale silver-grey. She’s right – when we all stand in a line at the dressmakers we do look very photogenic. Her excitement is infectious and it’s clear she loves every little inch of Seb, even his annoying habit of being so unpredictable at times when you really need him to be there. He missed his own fitting, would you believe, and he was the only one of the guys who couldn’t make it. Was Anna fazed or disappointed? No. She laughed and said they would sort him out on his return, because he had a mountain to climb: literally, of course. He sloped off on a week-long climb with a group he’d met while he was in Australia back-packing. I marvelled at the way Anna took it in her stride and understood he’d given up a lot this last year for her. With each meeting I’m warming to her more and more, but whenever we hug it’s there: that cold little feeling in the pit of my stomach that won’t go away. Even when, on the day of the dress fitting, she whispered in my ear “I’m so glad to be gaining a sister. I always longed to have one!”

Alex noticed something was up. I’ve never shared any of my thoughts or strange feelings with him. We’ve worked together for two years, and while we are the greatest of friends in a work situation, we’ve only ever skimmed the surface about things that happen outside of the office. There’s always been this invisible line between us. He knows about the wedding and that I worry about Seb, that I don’t get on well with my parents. But that’s it. In return I know that he has a sister he can’t stand and that he’s mad about formula one racing – fanatical even. But he’s never mentioned a partner and I never talk about my dates, which is why I am caught completely off guard when he starts talking about dating agencies.

“I’m thinking about joining one of these dating websites,” he casually drops into the conversation one morning, as we pore over the magazine mock-ups for the new campaign.

“Really?” I sit back to study his face, in search of some explanation for this sudden need to impart information.

“Well, don’t look at me like that! Millions join every day. Why not me? Oh God, there’s something wrong with me isn’t there. Do I have bad breath?” He looks mortified.

“No,” I wish I’d simply let the statement wash over me. “It’s a bit of a surprise, that’s all. I thought you might have someone.”

He looks at me as if to say ‘why would you think that?’ “Well I don’t. A guy can’t go on forever existing on meals for one,” he says flippantly and throws his pencil across the table.

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to imply anything at all. I only said—”

“Nah, it’s me. I suppose I feel life is passing me by and I’m not top of the list when it comes to being boyfriend material. Doesn’t mean to say I’m not interested though.”

There’s an awkward few minutes. I fuss around with the prints in front of us, but I can feel Alex’s eyes on me.

“Well,” I add, rather diplomatically, “I’m always around if you need a shoulder and all that…”

“Thanks, I’ll remember that. Coffee?”

“Fab, thought you’d never ask!”

“You could make it yourself, you know,” he quips.

“But you make it so much better,” I laugh and the moment has passed.

My curiosity has got the better of me though: will he be seeking out the gals or the guys?

***

I look at my journal, glancing over the pages of the last year. It seems that the episodes are becoming more frequent. Twice this week I’ve received what I feel to be a warning sign, on both occasions it was a female but they were very different. One was an older lady, and one a girl of probably no more than twelve years of age. There and then gone: mere seconds that prompted a déjà vu moment and then an action I felt I was meant to take. Often it’s a simple thing that might not have had any real impact, but how am I to know that? On Tuesday it was an incident at work when one of the guys was over-reaching to lift down an armful of files. I was walking by and this old lady appeared, I literally walked through her before I realised what was happening. The image seemed to dissolve around me. It was enough to make me turn around though and catch what was about to happen. I immediately ran to help Isaac, who had started to topple backwards. What I saw in that split-second was contact between his head and the desk, then lots of blood. I held out my arms to steady the files which began to slip, he instinctively grabbed onto me and with that one simple adjustment, regained his balance.

“Wow, close call! Thanks.”

“No problem.”

The other incident was another ‘something in nothing’ moment. This time I thought the young person was real at first, the form had colour rather than shadow. It was more about the feeling that passed through me that told me it was another premonition. I was queuing in the supermarket and in front of me there was a small child sitting in a supermarket trolley. Her mother was busy loading the contents onto the conveyor belt. The little girl was probably around two or three years of age. She was within arm’s reach of a tempting display of sweets and kept saying “chocolate treat Mama.” I glanced at the mother and she looked stressed, ignoring the little girl’s pleas. The child reached over and grabbed one of the colourful bags. When I caught sight of the young person in the next aisle I heard “No!” then the shape disappeared. It was so forceful I was sure it had been spoken out loud, but looking around it was clear no one else had heard it. Then a feeling of choking coursed through my body, as if I had swallowed something and it was stuck in my throat.

Fearful that the little girl would scream if I tried to take them away from her, I grabbed a small packet of chocolate buttons from the display. I offered them to her. The mother didn’t even notice her drop the round boiled sweets when she took the packet from my hand. The mother looked up a split-second later.

“Oh, you’ll get me into trouble one day missy.” She laughed. “We’ll actually walk out of a shop with something we haven’t paid for!”

I smiled good-naturedly along with everyone else, but I could still feel the choking sensation in the back of my throat. The apparition in the next aisle was gone, but the feeling was strong enough for me to record it in my journal. When I think back now, I can vividly recall that beautiful little girl’s smile.

As I close the journal and pop it back, sandwiched in the bookcase between Pride & Prejudice and my latest book on life after death theories, the doorbell rings. I wonder who on earth it can be at this time of day. Seb rang earlier, so I know it’s not him.