Falling

Angels Among Us

Linn B. Halton

A division of HarperCollinsPublishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Contents

Linn B. Halton

Dedication

Ceri

Chapter One – Being Me

Chapter Two – A Normal Day

Chapter Three – Who’s Naughty and Who’s Nice?

Chapter Four – Bitter-sweet

Chapter Five – Crystals

Chapter Six – Baring All

Chapter Seven – Letting Go

Chapter Eight – The New Me

Chapter Nine – The Argument

Chapter Ten – I Need to Get Away

Alex

Chapter Eleven – Alone

Chapter Twelve – Life Without Her

Ceri

Chapter Thirteen – Going to Pieces

Chapter Fourteen – Realisation

Chapter Fifteen – The Circle

Chapter Sixteen – Reconnecting

Chapter Seventeen – Fear

About HarperImpulse

Copyright

About the Publisher

Linn B. Halton

I live in a small village in Gloucestershire with the man I fell in love with, virtually at first sight. We were at a party and our eyes met across a crowded room! My days are spent with characters who become friends and Mr Tiggs, a feline with catitude. I always knew that one day I would write romantic novels, but I never dreamed they would have a psychic twist! I’ve experienced many ‘unexplainable’ things, but it took a long time for me to accept the reality of what that means. Love, life and beyond…but it’s ALWAYS about the romance!

I would like to thank Kim, Heidi, Kate, JB, Erin, Susan, Shaz, Charlotte, Dizzy C, Nikki and Tobi for valued feedback and support - love you guys. Also Richard for two amazing Gayatri mantra workshops and answering my many questions - thank you. To Mandy for constant support and advice - my mentor! Last, but not least, to Lawrence for being my rock …

Ceri

Chapter One – Being Me

I have no idea exactly when I began seeing angels, but I can’t seem to remember a time when I couldn’t. It feels like it’s always been a part of my life. It’s as natural as breathing and, yes, there are times when I wish that wasn’t the case. I seriously doubt anyone would choose to get drawn into something they don’t really understand. Why would they?

I’ve read books of course, and talked to many people who think they know how it all works. When I say ‘it’ I mean life after death, or whatever exists beyond the here and now. What I have found is a very diverse range of opinions, often given out as if they are factual and with a belief so strong that it seems unshakeable. And that’s true whether the person is an adamant sceptic, or a believer. The point is – how can anyone know for sure until it’s their turn to follow the light into what lies beyond?

As I stir my cappuccino, the heart-shaped chocolate powder begins to melt into a swathe of pale brown trails. It strikes me that it’s a good analogy – when something you see is not what it seems. One moment it appears to be something of substance and in a flash it’s gone. It’s the same with my angels: almost real but not quite. I may be able to see them at times, but it’s always merely seconds before they disappear.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Seb’s voice breaks my reverie.

I look up at him. “I’m thinking about angels.”

“Oh, I’d hoped it was something more… normal.” He closes the conversation before it has even begun and I realise that my wonderful brother is simply out of his depth. It leaves me feeling guilty again. Why do I keep doing this to myself and to other people? Haven’t I been slapped in the face often enough to know that people loathe the word ‘angels’. It reminds them of death: of loved ones lost and another world that only exists in fantasy.

Except, of course, I know better.

“So,” I try to keep my voice upbeat and pretend I’m not disappointed he’s failed the test again, “why an autumn wedding?”

“Anna has found her perfect dress for the day and it’s red. Her heart is set on it and she wants the guys to wear Scottish kilts,” he smirks.

“But there’s no Scottish blood in our family,” I point out.

“No, true, although Anna says her great-grandfather’s second cousin was a Laird.” We burst out laughing at exactly the same moment and say in unison, “Mega!” Typical of the link we have as non-identical twins who are in tune on many levels, but so opposite in other ways. I’ve never felt that we struggle to assert our own identities though and I like to think Seb feels the same way.

“And based on that tenuous link you’ll be seeking someone to pipe you in I suppose?” I can’t resist teasing him, but I’m simply masking my concern. I hate myself for the sense of ‘knowing’ that I can’t shake off. She’s going to hurt him, more than anyone has ever done in the past and he’s going to crumble.

“How did you guess?” he quips, and I chuckle at the thought of someone piping my brother up the aisle. He has hairy legs, knobbly knees, and thinks that all Scotland has to offer is some amazing mountains to climb.

“Well, at least tell me you’re going to Scotland for your honeymoon,” I reply. He shakes his head.

“No, California. Anna wants to do the Hollywood walk of fame.”

I study my brother’s face. He’s a happy man and that’s all that matters in the grand scheme of things, but the ‘Anna wants’ phrase seems to keep cropping up in every conversation we have these days. Is that how she’s going to fail him? Or is it Seb who is going to fail, adoring her too much and making the relationship one-sided: all give and no take because he’s sadly, madly in love?

“Fabulous,” is all I can find to say, holding back the words in my head that have to remain unspoken. In my heart I know she’s a lovely lady, but my brother is an interesting guy and he’s never fitted the mould. A bit like me, I suppose. Only Seb doesn’t see angels and sometimes I wonder if he thinks I’m possessed, or mad. I know he won’t entertain any ideas about an afterlife, but aside from that he’s used to thinking outside the box. My greatest concern is that Anna is rather… well, predictable, trendy. Okay, what I want to say is shallow, but that makes me feel mean and it’s not true. Then I realise that it’s the vibe again, ‘the knowing.’ When exactly the hurt will come I have no idea, but my instincts tell me it’s there, somewhere in the future. Without understanding what or how, all I can do is sit back and wait, then help to pick up the pieces.

“I’m fine,” Seb says, placing his hand reassuringly on my arm. “I love Anna and if that’s what makes her happy then I’m happy too.”

His voice breaks my train of thought. “The angels,” Seb shifts in his chair uncomfortably, “you do know it’s all a figment of your imagination? You’re an extremely sensitive person and you over-think things, Ceri. I inherited the practical skills and you inherited the creative ones. Don’t get sucked in, and remember that you can’t believe everything you read.” He fingers a book lying on the table next to him. The title is Never Alone, and it’s about a woman who sees spirits.

I nod, inwardly shaking my head, and a part of me is sad that he has no idea. It’s not that I know all the answers: if I did I would be banging his head against a wall until he listened to me. I can’t prove anything and I wonder if that’s the whole point. To believe you have to rise above needing to be shown. You simply need to see with your eyes wide open. What I do know is that so far I have a journal that shows I’ve altered the course of events for over one hundred and thirty-one people.

What that means, I have no idea.

Chapter Two – A Normal Day

The moment I awaken I can feel it; a sense of uneasy anticipation. I try to shut it out and concentrate on the mundane – getting dressed, brushing my hair, cleaning my teeth. It doesn’t pass, but the intensity lessens. I step outside and have to force myself not to turn around. Instead I stand for a moment, take a deep breath, and begin walking.

The sky is that shade of cornflower blue that heralds the start of a really sunny day. There’s hardly a cloud in the sky and the birdsong sounds like an orchestra tuning up before act one. Suddenly I feel much better; lighter and more optimistic. I’m worrying about nothing and I give myself a mental shake as I walk. I have to stop living my life expecting something untoward to happen; maybe it’s true what they say about karma and sending out positive thoughts to the universe. If I’m constantly sending out worry and apprehension, then maybe I’m a magnet for all the stray negativity floating around in the ether.

I break into a smile and the old lady walking past me glances my way, frowning. It makes me chuckle and I can feel the tension leaving my neck and shoulders. It’s a good day to be alive and instead of pondering about what might or might not happen, I concentrate on my surroundings. It takes about twenty minutes to walk to the office and that’s the beauty of living in a green and leafy part of Gloucestershire. I walk past the park, and the colourful blossoms breaking out on the trees are such a wonderful contrast to the constant stream of traffic in the morning rush hour.

“Ceri,” my name appears to float on the gentle morning breeze. I turn my head and see it’s my boss, Mason Portingale, striding to catch up with me.

“Morning Mason.” I’m pleased that my voice sounds cheerful and confident.

“Ready for our big brainstorming session?” He peers at me and his tone sounds accusatory, as if I might have forgotten about it. Mason can’t help being somewhat curt, it’s the way he is and I have to be careful when I’m around him. Portingale & Hughes Advertising is a prestigious firm and the moment I step over the threshold I become a slightly different Ceri: reliable, solid, an ‘ideas’ person and bubbly. A sort of robot really, divorcing myself from the things that make me different to most other people around me.

“Can’t wait,” I smile encouragingly. Actually, I’ve thought of nothing else this last week.

“I’m counting on some good ideas coming from your corner. It’s a big contract and we need to impress the Court-Abel executives with some original concepts.”

I think to myself that a ‘Good morning Ceri’ would have been nice. I was hoping for a relaxing walk into work, not a business meeting. “Of course. I’ve come up with something a little different from their usual style. However, it really does depend on what exactly they are looking for, Mason. The brief is pretty wide-ranging.” I glance at him, not wanting to connect for any longer than I have to. My instincts have always told me to be wary of him, but I have no idea why.

“Okay, run it past me.” His clipped tone infers that I don’t have a choice and the breakfast meeting has begun.

“Well, I know they are keen to keep pushing the organic content of their fruit juices, but their entire brand is synonymous with that already. Perhaps we should centre their next campaign on lifestyle.” I pause to see if I’m way off with this idea or if he’s interested, but he gives nothing away.

“And?” We stop to cross the road and I step forward, level with him; Mason seems rather annoyed I can’t match his walking pace and I keep lagging a step or two behind. He glances down at me and it’s hard to ignore the feeling that I simply don’t like this man.

“Essentially it would focus on the happiness that comes as a result of pursuing a healthy lifestyle. The headline would be ‘The sun always shines on happy people’ and I’m thinking Good Day Sunshine by The Beatles. Short, simple.”

“Mmm.” That’s it. No reaction. Oh well, we’ll have to wait and see what the rest of the team come up with.

We enter the building, sign in at the desk, and he walks off in the direction of his office without saying another word. With Mason you can never tell if you’ve upset him or he’s simply being himself. Rude often springs to mind.

A little shiver travels down my back. Wow – where did that come from? As I enter the lift I assume it’s because the sunshine outside was really warm and the lobby is quite chilly. All that expensive marble I suppose.

***

It’s a day of pre-meetings and planning before the client comes in at three o’clock for the brainstorming session. My colleague, Alex Delano, and I spend most of the morning pulling together some visuals to go with the ‘Good Day Sunshine’ idea. We search through the modelling agency portfolios for a suitable candidate whose appearance screams health, vitality and happiness.

“Love the look of this one,” Alex beams.

“Keep your mind on the work, not what’s in the bikini,” I remind him and we both start laughing.

“Such a hard job, but someone has to do it!” He rolls his eyes and raises his coffee cup. “Another one?”

“Yep, although I suppose we should be drinking some healthy juice that’s full of vitamins and antioxidants.”

“Okay,” he interrupts. “I admit, you’ve come up with a great idea and the others aren’t going to be in with a chance because we’ve heard all that before. You have a creative mind, Ceri, there’s no doubt about that.”

Alex sashays away, it’s his trademark. I’ve often wondered if he’s gay. He never talks about girlfriends, although I know he has lots of friends of both sexes. He’s great to be around and he gives out good vibes. We work well as a team and there are times when I think that I wouldn’t still be here, working for Mason, if it wasn’t for Alex. His positivity and good karma make up for the discomfort I feel whenever I’m in Mason’s company. Fortunately that’s kept to the minimum, as Mason Portingale rarely mixes with the entry-level management team.

“Your coffee madam,” Alex reaches across to place the mug in front of me.

“Thanks. So you think this is a winner then?” I look at the sheets we’ve quickly pulled together for the ten minute presentation.

“Sure do. I think centring the campaign on that iconic Beatles song is inspired. The words are such an amazing fit. It’s a winner Ceri.” His arm brushes against mine as he sits down and I move slightly, not wanting him to feel uncomfortable. We exchange smiles and I can’t help shrieking. “I think we’re on it with this one!” I fight to keep the volume down and we do the sitting down, stamping-our-feet happy dance.

“High-five boss, you’ve done it again!”

***

I leave at five-thirty and take a leisurely stroll back to my apartment. I’m on a high because the client was full of enthusiasm for the ideas Alex and I brought to the meeting this afternoon.

Then it happens.

The dappled sunshine reflecting on the pavement from the tall trees overhead suddenly pales. Everything becomes slightly opaque: it’s like looking at an old photo where the colour is toned down. My footsteps seem to slow for no apparent reason at all. The air is heavier, it’s harder to fill my lungs and the sounds around me seem to have been turned down a notch or two. Then I see a young man. He fits into the picture in front of me as if he’s a part of it, yet I know he isn’t real. We make eye contact for the briefest second and he turns to face the road, then he’s gone. That’s if he was ever really there.

Panic begins to overtake my thoughts. A dog runs past me and my eyes follow it, wondering why it isn’t on a lead. There’s no owner in sight, then the young man appears again from nowhere, standing about five or six feet away from me. He’s merely a shadow, like the pale, dappled pools of sunlight on the pavement. The breeze moves the leaves around high overhead and the light flickers, making him blend in even more. Our eyes meet, lock, and in that instant I can see him more clearly. He wants me to stop the dog.

I break into a run, wondering how I can waylay the animal before he reaches the busy main road. I’m carrying my mobile phone and my bag is slung over my shoulder, but aside from that I have nothing with which to catch him. My pace quickens and I can see that he has slowed, a little spooked by the sound of the heavy traffic ahead.

My mind plays out the scene of the dog running into the road and a car having to swerve suddenly to avoid hitting him. The car slews into a cyclist who begins to overtake him, angry he’s slowed down with no apparent reason and unable, himself, to see the dog. The sound of the collision is sickening.

I throw down my phone and bag then quickly slip my arms out of my linen jacket. The gap closes and I toss the jacket into the air, hoping it will land on my target. It covers the poor little guy’s head and shoulders, draping down over his front legs, and brings him to a halt almost instantly. All I can see is a rear end that quickly disappears as he turns half-circle, trying to shake off the jacket. He’s only a few feet away from the road. I look to the left and I see the cyclist, slipping into the space in front of the car that is less than ten feet away from me. He’s totally unaware of course and continues weaving in and out of the traffic. I close my eyes and utter a silent prayer. The sound of yelping brings me back into the moment. The dog has managed to free himself.

“Charlie!”

The dog runs past me in the direction of his anxious owner.

“Thank you.” His voice reflects the fact that he realises Charlie was lucky. “I’m so very grateful to you. I can’t believe he ran off like that, I don’t know how you managed to act so quickly. Really, that was amazing. I can’t even begin to think what might have happened if he’d caused an accident.” He bends to hug Charlie, who is jumping around like a live wire. “You’re lucky Charlie, lucky to be here and lucky you didn’t get someone else hurt.” Both dog and owner look up at me. I take a few deep breaths, trying to regain my composure, and focus on dusting off my jacket.

“No problem,” I say casually. “Right place, right time.”

The guy continues to stare at me when I say a casual goodbye and walk away. I can feel his eyes on me and a sense of disbelief at what has just occurred. The scene that keeps playing over and over again in my head is like a trailer from a horror movie. I wince as the sound of metal crunching against bone assaults my ears. Tears fill my eyes. I can’t stop them brimming over and running down my cheeks. Another episode for my log: number one hundred and thirty-two.

Chapter Three – Who’s Naughty and Who’s Nice?

“Ceri?” It’s Anna and she sounds excited. “Seb told you about the wedding plans? You don’t think it’s over the top, do you? I mean the Scottish link is rather more like wishful thinking.” She stops to laugh and I can’t help smiling. “It’s only that I think the kilts and things are so romantic.” It almost sounds like she’s pleading with me to agree. Why does it matter what I think anyway? That familiar sensation of sadness unsettles my stomach and I wonder what causes it. Anna is open and honest, so why do I believe she’s going to hurt Seb in a way that he’ll never get over? I close my eyes and wish it would all go away.

“It’s your wedding and the bride calls the shots. Seb seems happy enough to go along with it, and he’s the one who has to wear the kilt. He’s trying hard to make you happy Anna, whatever you want he’ll do everything he can to make it happen.” I realise my words sound a little like a dig and I wasn’t conscious of wanting to upset her. There are a few seconds of silence.

“I don’t want to turn into bridezilla.”

I’ve embarrassed her and I feel ashamed of myself. “You won’t. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, it’s what makes you and Seb happy that counts. It’s your special day.”

“Oh, thank you so much Ceri. I worry that Seb is simply agreeing with everything I put forward and I thought he might have confided in you if he was unhappy about any of the arrangements. I also have a favour to ask.” She hesitates, and I hold my breath. “Would you be my chief bridesmaid?”

It isn’t what I was expecting at all, and while it’s really not my thing I know I have to agree and sound enthusiastic. “That would be lovely, thank you!” In my head I imagine a red bridesmaid’s dress with a huge bow on the back that makes me look like a badly dressed doll.

“Oh, Seb is going to be so happy! Two of my best friends are also going to be bridesmaids and you are all about the same height, so it’s going to be great for the photos.” She should have stopped at ‘happy’. Photos are only photos, is it necessary to consider the size and shape of the people who will appear in them? I shake my head, glad Anna can’t see that the truth is we have very different priorities. I put down the phone, relieved that at least I haven’t upset the bride.

Maybe I’m old before my time because of the things I’ve experienced. Who knows? Maybe I inherited the sensible gene and that’s why Seb has always been so adventurous in his life – he’s the risk-taker. He’s finally ready to settle down after realising that having someone to share your life with becomes more important to you the older you become.

When I think back over the guys that have come and gone in my life, I can see that there never was anyone with whom I felt a serious connection. I’ve always been in love with the idea of being in love, but everyone I’ve dated has only ever seen the shell of me. None could see inside and every single one of them backed off whenever anything odd happened. I can’t blame them, the fault lies with me, but if I had one wish it would be to find a guy who could understand. I long to be with someone and not have to hide or explain anything. To find a person who can simply accept me without judgment and with whom I could relax, confident that he would support me no matter what happened on my life’s path.

My mobile kicks into life and I see from the caller ID it’s Alex.

“Hey girl,” he drawls and his tone suggests this is going to be gossip. “Thought you’d like to know that rumours are rife and it’s all about you. The word is out that you are next in line for Scott’s job when he leaves. First management team, here she comes!”

I was right. He’s worse than the women who hang around in the coffee room speculating about who’s dating who.

“Well, don’t you think someone would have mentioned something to me about it first?” I laugh.

“Maybe today clinched it. After all, there are probably two other candidates I can think of who would be in the running.” He pauses and I can imagine him, wine glass in hand; a blush wine, of course.

“Gee, so glad to have you on my team!”

“What? I’m being honest. You know he’d prefer a male candidate, but I think you hit it out the ballpark today lady!”

“Well, keep me informed. I’d hate to be late on my first day in a new job,” I chuckle. “Stop gossiping and leave me alone. I need to lie down. I’ve just agreed to be Anna’s chief bridesmaid. She’s wearing red and the guys are wearing kilts.”

“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.

Before I open the door, I place both my hands on it. The bell rings for the third time, whoever it is seems impatient but still I take a brief moment. A tingling sensation courses through me: this isn’t going to be bad news or trouble. Swinging open the door, it’s Sheena and my mouth falls open. I rush up to her and we hug. It seems the cosmos is sending me the help I need!

“Why didn’t you say you were coming? But I’m so glad you’re here,” I almost find myself shouting with happiness and then I burst into tears.

“Hey, what’s this all about? What have I missed? I’ve only been gone three weeks and you’ve been very quiet, girl. I was worried. Guess I was right! Put the kettle on and let’s have a chat.”

As the door closes I feel a sense of relief. Sheena and Kelly were my two best friends. They were both people who knew me: the side of me I keep hidden from everyone else. Kelly was diagnosed with leukaemia four years ago and died six months later. It was a blow from which I haven’t yet recovered.

I’m still hugging Sheena tightly and marvelling at the fact that she has arrived precisely when I need her. “What’s up?” Sheena asks. She heads straight into the kitchen. I sit myself down on a stool while she makes tea as if it’s her own home. I love that: it’s like I have a sister who comes back every now and again to rescue me from myself.

“Nothing and everything,” I admit, miserably.

“Is it to do with Seb and Anna?”

“No, it’s the usual. Things I can’t explain. Déjà vu and the signs… people I don’t know who tell me nothing, but appear for some reason. Why? Why me?”

Sheena stops and looks at me.

“We’ve had this conversation before Ceri. It’s not helping you to keep thinking about the ‘why.’ You have to accept it – what’s the point in fighting something when you have no idea what it really is? Heck, you should know from your research, you can’t explain the unexplainable. So what’s really bothering you?”

“Alex has joined a dating agency.” I’m surprised at my own words. Where did that come from?

“You said you thought he was into guys, so what’s the problem? Worried it will affect his work once he’s on the emotional rollercoaster of the dating scene?”

“I’m not sure. I felt rather, well, disappointed. He has his first date this weekend but he hasn’t given me any details.”

“Oh.” She hands me my tea and settles onto the stool opposite. “Hidden feelings? This isn’t like you to begrudge someone a little fun. You’re his boss, not his girlfriend.”

I raise my eyebrows and shrug my shoulders. “I know. I’m being silly. With you travelling so much these days he’s the closest thing I have to a best friend and his friendship means a lot to me. Except he doesn’t know of course… about…”

“Ah, you feel comfortable with him. Were you hoping he’d notice something unusual about you and ask the question? I mean, I know Seb gives you a hard time and you do need someone you can confide in when I’m not around.”

We’re both thinking of Kelly.

“Why do you think Kelly has never come through to give me a message?” It’s a question I’ve had in the back of my mind for a long time. I suppose a little part of me is waiting, silently hoping for a sign, and now I’ve voiced it.

“You’re the expert, what do I know? I have no idea how it all works, but I will tell you one thing, Ceri. I don’t think it’s going to go away and you have to find a way of reconciling yourself to that fact. I know I sound like a broken record, I’ve said this so many times before. How’s the journal count?”

“One hundred and thirty-seven.” I can’t look her in the eye, I feel I’m declaring all the sins I’ve committed since the last time we were together.

“Worst one?”

“A young woman with a horrible cough, the message was clear. I saw this shape of an elderly man wrapping his arms around her. He looked up at me and the sadness was unforgettable. It was in a coffee shop and I was in the queue, she was sitting alone at a table for two. I asked if she minded sharing; luckily there were no other places available. We began chatting. I ended up telling her a story about my aunt having pneumonia and said she should have her cough checked out, it sounded similar.” We exchange glances and Sheena can see it hasn’t been easy. My story wasn’t true, of course.

“Poor you, how did she take it?”

“She left shortly afterwards, but she did say ‘thanks’ when she stood up to go. She looked back at me, trying to judge whether I was a total nut or not. I gave her a smile and for a second we connected. I hope it was enough to convince her.”

“But you will never know,” Sheena said, sadly.

“No, I’ll never know.”

“So, back to Alex, you don’t fancy him or anything daft like that, do you? I thought I’d ask the question in case it was an issue. ” She reaches for the biscuit jar and takes out a handful.

“I don’t know. He’s like a BFF, I regard him as a girlfriend.” I look at her and she’s amused.

“Maybe he’s a guy who is simply in touch with his feminine side. Perhaps he fancies you and wants to gain your trust first. He’s trying to put you at ease by not making a play for you and you’ve misread the signals,” she jokes. “Have you been on any dates lately?”

“One. It was a big mistake. Huge, actually. A friend of Seb’s, and it was really awkward. We had absolutely nothing in common and he asked me out for a second time. Seb was a little upset when I said no. He was a nice guy, well most of them are if they’re genuine, but no way was there any spark between us.”

“Well, I’m still dating Mr Boss,” she smirks, “and working under him gets better by the day.” She gives me a sideways glance and raises her eyebrows.

“Sheena! Too much information – spare me the details. Anyway, I’m not sure sleeping with the boss is such a great idea.”

“Ah, you’re only jealous. I bet the truth is you fancy the pants off Mason Portingale and would jump into bed with him at the first sign of an offer.”

“Now you’re going to make me physically sick,” I moan. “He’s a creep. No, it’s more than that. He’s not a very nice person I think. I can only tolerate him in small doses. I sense a bad vibe.”

“You know Ceri, you’ve spent your life rebelling against this and thinking of it as a burden. Have you ever stopped to think it might actually have been a blessing?”

She munches on her last biscuit. I can see she’s serious.

“It’s easy for you to say that. Try experiencing it first-hand.”

“Okay, I accept that you’ve been through a lot and goodness knows I’ve seen how it’s affected you over the years. But what if this sense of awareness prevents you from having dead-end relationships that would only end up breaking your heart? What if there’s a special someone for you and, because you can read what’s inside of people, all you have to do is wait for that first meeting. And bang, you’ve found your soul mate.”

For Sheena, that’s deep. She pretty much floats through life avoiding being tied down and never taking anything very seriously. That’s why she’s my right arm: without her I wouldn’t function so well because she sees things in a different light. It helps to keep me sane.

“Well, if the cosmos is listening, I’ve had enough. I want a significant other. I don’t want to be on my own anymore. But he has to be special. He mustn’t judge or take flight when I have my… moments.”

Sheena grimaces. “And of course, he has to be good-looking, talented, kind, and sexy too. Tall order! This isn’t about Seb and Anna, is it?” She softens the last part, perhaps fearful she’s hit upon the truth.

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