I stare at the phone in disbelief. All the best? Is that it then? Friendship over?
I look up to see Ed has reappeared and is standing in the doorway, listening. ‘She heard, then.’
‘Yes.’ I feel stupidly teary. ‘Just ignore me though. I’ll sort it out; it was my own fault. More importantly, you were very quick – what did he say next door?’
‘Well, it was her, not him – I can never remember her name, but she’d only just got in from work, and he’s still out so she didn’t know if anyone had been or not. She did look through their post though, and this leaflet for a church group had been put through their door.’ He passes it over to me.
I look down at it. ‘Right, so it probably was one of their members attempting to speak to Sandrine?’
‘I think so, yes. I’m sorry to hear that things with Natalia have kicked off though. That’s bad luck.’
I glance at my phone. ‘Yes, isn’t it? Very bad luck.’
‘It’s been a shit evening full stop for you. Do you want to just go and watch something in bed for a bit? Try and switch your mind off?’
I nod. ‘Yes, I think I do. I’ll just check on Sandrine, and see you up there.’ I grab my laptop as I leave the room and head off upstairs.
* * *
I find her in her bedroom, sitting on her bed, headphones plugged into her phone. She pulls them out and smiles politely when I knock at her door.
‘I just wanted to make sure you weren’t still feeling worried, or frightened.’
She shakes her head. ‘I only feel stupid. I talked to my parents and they think I am surprise when I turn around and a person is, pooft! – right there – you know? But not to cry about it.’
‘Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better. Good night.’
‘Good night, Jessica.’
* * *
I head into our bedroom and sit down on the bed, propping the pillows up behind me. I open the laptop – and do a Google search on ‘Stranger saying God loves you’.
One of the results to come back is a forum page, where someone has asked:
‘Question: Did a Christian stranger ever tell you “Jesus loves you?”’
Someone has answered:
‘YEAH! They like come up to you and are all “Jesus loves you, you’re special to him, yadda yadda…” I just kind of smile and walk off. I don’t need that kind of shit when I’ve had a long day.’
Another answer reads:
‘Yes, and it was weird. This guy came up and asked me if I wanted a bible… AWKWARD!!’
There are actually five pages of answers. I scan through a couple – a lot of respondents mention pocket bibles being handed to people outside schools. I learnt a long while ago that’s quite a common practice. I return to the results, and one of the related searches is: ‘God spoke to me through a stranger’.
It leads to another forum.
‘Question: A man came up to me in the street and told me not to be afraid ’cause God is with me??! Has this happened to you and what does it mean?’
Another seven pages of answers follow:
‘A: It can mean whatever you want it to mean. Were you upset at the time? Perhaps he could see that and wanted to help/take advantage. If you’re the kind of person who believes in clairvoyance or wants to believe it, you’ll probably see it as a message. I don’t personally, so I just see it as a weird thing. Just get on with your life!’
‘A: Yes! God speaks through strangers all the time! He’s telling me right now to tell you to give me all your money…’
‘A: I think he can and these strangers are your guardian angels.’
‘A: YES GOD CAN TALK TO U THROUGH PEOPLE! IT’S CRAZY SHIT AND WHEN IT HAPPENS UR ALL WHOA! BUT EMBRACE IT AND LET GOD LOVE YOU TOO STAY REAL AND LOVE!’
‘A: Yes I think it’s possible to receive messages – if not from God, from something, or someone – that are relayed by strangers. But you will know when it’s real.’
‘A: He does it for shits and giggles to freak people out. It makes him feel superior.’
‘A: God loves you… and I love you. I’ve got a baby rabbit in my car; would you like to come and see it?’
OK, that’s enough. I sit back on the pillows and stare at the screen, rubbing my eyes tiredly. It’s just that the woman or man tonight was even on a pushbike too. That is weird, surely. That’s not just me?
I glance at the window, and get up, drawing back the edge of the curtain I pulled earlier when I put James down. I peer anxiously down into the orange glow of the quiet street – lines of parked cars on either side – and jump slightly as a movement catches my eye, but it’s only a wiry fox darting out and across the road into someone’s garden. Everything falls still again. There’s no one there.
I climb back onto the bed, and finding iPlayer, put on an old Strictly Come Dancing. I try to focus on the sparkly dresses and cosy smiles, pushing weird strangers in the street, close friends not talking to me now, and my husband asking about angels of death, far, far away from my mind – but it doesn’t work.
Biting my lip, I return to the forums and scan through until I find the response I’m looking for:
‘Yes, I think it’s possible to receive messages – if not from God, from something, or someone – that are relayed by strangers. But you will know when it’s real.’
And that is the problem. Everyone can tell me over and over again that what the woman said to me on the morning of the 22nd November wasn’t related to Beth’s accident. I could spend the next ten years trying to force myself to reach, or find, a logical conclusion – but ultimately, I KNOW it was real.
I take a deep breath and lean my head back on the pillow. Tonight’s incident has plucked me out of the here and now, and dropped me back into the skin I was in seventeen years ago, only with the curse of hindsight, and the benefit of age and experience. Why in God’s name didn’t I pull Beth out of the school that very first morning Simon and Louise walked into Beth’s classroom holding Cara’s hand and I realised why he was there. Why didn’t he do something? ‘How did we miss our chance, Simon?’ I whisper aloud, in disbelief.
Beth. My baby girl.
‘I miss you so much.’ My lips move with the words I have said to her so many, many times. How could I have failed her so badly?
I know that woman’s message, or warning… whatever it was – was real.
And to think that it might just have happened again?
Chapter Sixteen
‘I’m so sorry, I’ll find my keys in a minute.’
I rummage around in the change bag, and then in a fit of frustration, turn the whole thing upside down on the hall floor. A cascade of spare nappies, the first aid pouch, my purse, empty raisin packets, sticky, crumb-encrusted 5p pieces, ancient receipts, numerous wax crayons, a plastic Octonaut and a small car tumbles out. I’ll now also need to hoover, and I still have no keys.
‘We can walk, Jessica. It’s fine?’ Sandrine holds onto James’s hand.
‘No. I’m going to drive you. It’s a filthy morning,’ I insist, the stranger from last night lurking in the back of my mind. ‘You’ll get soaked and toddler groups are bad enough without being wet and cold too.’
As if to prove my point, the front door suddenly swings open wildly in the wind and bounces on its hinges – sending a rush of air up the hallway, making James catch his breath and Sandrine shiver. I jump to my feet and push it tightly shut, before hurrying back over to the bag and dropping to my knees to scoop everything back up. ‘Sorry, guys. I didn’t close it properly when I was going to see if I’d left them in the car door, that’s all. Nearly there!’ I smile brightly at James. ‘Mummy will just find the keys and then… off we go!’