met my boyfriend Chas, have you, Travis? I’m sorry; I never got the chance to tell you about him, what with everything else going on.’
I blink at her.
‘I – I met him the other night, Demi,’ I say quietly. ‘You were running away with him.’
She sniffs and laughs at the same time. ‘Behave, Travis! He’s at home, in Manchester, back at university. I wasn’t running anywhere; I was just walking.’
‘So Chas is what, eighteen, nineteen? Tall, dark, wears glasses?’ This time I have her full attention. ‘I have met him, Dem; on the beach, where you found me. We didn’t like one another. I hit him.’
She sighs. ‘Travis, you’re telling one of your daft stories again.’
‘He’s a medical student, who wants to be a neurosurgeon as well as a psychiatrist! How would I know that if I hadn’t met him?’
Some of the milk spills onto the cloth as she slams her glass on the table.
‘You’re spooking me, Travis! The only way you could’ve met him was before he left, and you weren’t around!’
‘No; I hadn’t met him before that night.’ Not unless I count twenty ninety-nine! ‘It was on the beach. Dr Mac doesn’t know about him, Demi; why haven’t you told anyone?’
‘I didn’t want Dad finding out!’ she snaps. ‘Shut up, Travis! You’re sick; a head case! I’m going to bed!’
She scrapes back her chair, and flounces into the sitting room in a rage. I follow her, determined to make her listen.
‘Demi, what was I wearing when you found me?’
‘Oh, Travis, I don’t know! It was dark, it was late. I couldn’t see.’
I run past her, up the stairs to my room, coming back down again with the red jumper. I fling it at her. ‘Recognise it?’
She stares at it. ‘It – it belongs to Chas! Where did you get it?’
‘He gave it to me after he pulled me out of the sea.’
Still clutching the jumper Demi sinks into the nearest chair.
‘I had it on when I came round in the cottage. Only one person could’ve given me that jumper, Demi, and that’s Chas himself.’
‘If it’s the same,’ she says quietly, ‘there’s a small hole in one of the sleeves.’ Sure enough, there it is, in the cuff. Demi’s eyes are glazed and misty. ‘I offered to darn it, but he said not to bother. Here,’ she throws it back to me, ‘you may as well keep it. I don’t know how you came by it, but I’m telling you one thing for sure, Chas wasn’t there that night; unless you think I’m bonkers, and I’m not! I must’ve told you about him, and described him to you. You must have dreamt he was there. Yeah, that’s it.’ She doesn’t sound too sure. ‘I’m – I’m tired. Let me go, Travis. Please!’
‘What if I told you I was a sort of time traveller?’ I blurt out.
‘Oh, Travis ! For God’s sake...!’
‘What if I told you nearly every time I have a really bad seizure it propels me through time?’
‘I’d say you were off your head!’ Demi strides across the room to Dr Mac’s drinks cabinet, unscrews the top off a bottle of whisky, and pours it into a glass. The whisky disappears in a trice, and she pours out another.
‘Look at me, Dem!’ I swing her by the shoulders to face me. ‘Have I aged in the four years since you last saw me?’
She peers at me. ‘No,’ she admits. She takes another gulp of her drink. ‘No, you haven’t aged at all, Travis. Not since the first day we met. It’s like time has stood still for you. You don’t seem to have grown up much, either!’ Giggling, she pulls me closer. ‘I’m sorry I called you a head case.’
Our noses touch. It’s nice, until I smell her whisky breath.
‘Don’t drink any more,’ I plead. I take the empty glass from her, and lead her to the settee. ‘Look at this, Dem.’
I hold the pod between my fingers. She squints at it. ‘What’s that?’ I place it in the palm of her hand. ‘It’s quite heavy.’
‘It’s a thought pod from my future.’
Demi laughs, like she’s enjoying a joke. ‘Show
I blink at her.
‘I – I met him the other night, Demi,’ I say quietly. ‘You were running away with him.’
She sniffs and laughs at the same time. ‘Behave, Travis! He’s at home, in Manchester, back at university. I wasn’t running anywhere; I was just walking.’
‘So Chas is what, eighteen, nineteen? Tall, dark, wears glasses?’ This time I have her full attention. ‘I have met him, Dem; on the beach, where you found me. We didn’t like one another. I hit him.’
She sighs. ‘Travis, you’re telling one of your daft stories again.’
‘He’s a medical student, who wants to be a neurosurgeon as well as a psychiatrist! How would I know that if I hadn’t met him?’
Some of the milk spills onto the cloth as she slams her glass on the table.
‘You’re spooking me, Travis! The only way you could’ve met him was before he left, and you weren’t around!’
‘No; I hadn’t met him before that night.’ Not unless I count twenty ninety-nine! ‘It was on the beach. Dr Mac doesn’t know about him, Demi; why haven’t you told anyone?’
‘I didn’t want Dad finding out!’ she snaps. ‘Shut up, Travis! You’re sick; a head case! I’m going to bed!’
She scrapes back her chair, and flounces into the sitting room in a rage. I follow her, determined to make her listen.
‘Demi, what was I wearing when you found me?’
‘Oh, Travis, I don’t know! It was dark, it was late. I couldn’t see.’
I run past her, up the stairs to my room, coming back down again with the red jumper. I fling it at her. ‘Recognise it?’
She stares at it. ‘It – it belongs to Chas! Where did you get it?’
‘He gave it to me after he pulled me out of the sea.’
Still clutching the jumper Demi sinks into the nearest chair.
‘I had it on when I came round in the cottage. Only one person could’ve given me that jumper, Demi, and that’s Chas himself.’
‘If it’s the same,’ she says quietly, ‘there’s a small hole in one of the sleeves.’ Sure enough, there it is, in the cuff. Demi’s eyes are glazed and misty. ‘I offered to darn it, but he said not to bother. Here,’ she throws it back to me, ‘you may as well keep it. I don’t know how you came by it, but I’m telling you one thing for sure, Chas wasn’t there that night; unless you think I’m bonkers, and I’m not! I must’ve told you about him, and described him to you. You must have dreamt he was there. Yeah, that’s it.’ She doesn’t sound too sure. ‘I’m – I’m tired. Let me go, Travis. Please!’
‘What if I told you I was a sort of time traveller?’ I blurt out.
‘Oh, Travis ! For God’s sake...!’
‘What if I told you nearly every time I have a really bad seizure it propels me through time?’
‘I’d say you were off your head!’ Demi strides across the room to Dr Mac’s drinks cabinet, unscrews the top off a bottle of whisky, and pours it into a glass. The whisky disappears in a trice, and she pours out another.
‘Look at me, Dem!’ I swing her by the shoulders to face me. ‘Have I aged in the four years since you last saw me?’
She peers at me. ‘No,’ she admits. She takes another gulp of her drink. ‘No, you haven’t aged at all, Travis. Not since the first day we met. It’s like time has stood still for you. You don’t seem to have grown up much, either!’ Giggling, she pulls me closer. ‘I’m sorry I called you a head case.’
Our noses touch. It’s nice, until I smell her whisky breath.
‘Don’t drink any more,’ I plead. I take the empty glass from her, and lead her to the settee. ‘Look at this, Dem.’
I hold the pod between my fingers. She squints at it. ‘What’s that?’ I place it in the palm of her hand. ‘It’s quite heavy.’
‘It’s a thought pod from my future.’
Demi laughs, like she’s enjoying a joke. ‘Show
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