“Oh... I...”
Joel ventures a smile. “Just to say, I know how that sounds.”
I try to think. “When you say you see what’s going to happen...”
“I can see into the future. Days, months, sometimes years in advance.”
“Are you—”
“Serious?” He looks at me. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“No, I was going to say—”
“Sorry. I interrupted. Twice.”
“It’s okay. I was just going to ask if you’re sure that the dreams... aren’t a coincidence.”
“If only they were.”
We stand at the edge of the lake. I have no idea what to do or say next. How can this be true? And yet Joel comes across as one of the most sincere people I’ve ever met.
“Just so you know, if you’re thinking of making a run for it,” he says, tilting his head in the direction we’ve come from, “I absolutely wouldn’t blame you. I can just... become the weird guy downstairs again, if you like. No hard feelings. I promise.”
I rush to reassure him. “You never were the weird guy downstairs to me.” But still. What he’s told me is seismic, a vast loophole in logic, and I don’t have a clue what to do with it. “Listen, Joel, everything you’ve just said... it defies science. Reality.”
“It does. But I can try to explain.”
So we carry on walking as he describes his cousin Luke and the dog attack, his mum dying of cancer, his family and losses and near-misses and tortured nights spent wondering. He recounts the horrible experience he had with his university GP. He confesses he hates being away from home, for fear of dreaming something awful that he needs to intercept, and I realize that must be why he’s never traveled.
When he mentions a dream he had at Halloween, in which his dad claimed not to be his real father, something slots into place in my mind.
“I heard you,” I say. “I heard you call out that night, in your sleep.”
His dismay is almost palpable. “Sorry. In my dream... I was shouting after him.”
“No, don’t be. I just... I could hear how upset you were. Have you—”
“Talked to him? No.”
“Why... why not?”
As he laughs softly, I see his eyes are wet with emotion. It takes him a moment to reply. “What the hell would I say?”
After that he carries on talking for almost ten minutes straight, and when eventually he’s done, we share a look that gives me goose bumps.
“Callie, I know this stuff might not be easy to understand. Or even believe. I didn’t believe it myself, not for a long time. It took me years to come to terms with it. So I’m hardly expecting you to buy the whole story right now, today.”
“I don’tnotbelieve you.”
“Oh.” His face flexes with relief. “Well, that’s more than I was expecting.”
From the lake, two mute swans take flight, the pounding of their wings like the rushing of sonogram heartbeats.
“So... who else knows?”
“Hardly anyone. Steve. He’s got a friend who might be able to help, but... I’m not holding my breath.”
I remember what Melissa said to me earlier, in the shop. “I think Melissa knows.”
