Page 24 of Whispers from the Past

‘Urban Hymns. Mainly because of Lucky Man though.’

‘Mine too!’ She smiled as Luke looked over to her. ‘I had a major crush on Richard Ashcroft at school. Posters on the wall kind of crush.’

‘Interesting taste in men for a teenager,’ Luke teased.

‘I admit he wasn’t your typical heartthrob, but that voice just got me. Mind if I turn it up a bit?’ She gestured towards the cassette player.

‘By my guest.’

Holly was jolted awake as the car idled outside the war memorial - the perfect drop off for both the pub and the bookshop. She leaned through the front seats and kissed her brother good night. ‘Thanks Luke! Night Rose - same again next week?’ she joked as she clambered out over Luke.

‘I think I’ll need a few weeks to recover from a night out with you,’ Rose teased as Luke sat back down in his seat.

“Ok. Let’s do the cinema Sunday night? Jurassic Park marathon - who can say no to that?” And before Rose could say anything, she was alone with Luke. An awkward silence filled the small cabin.

‘Thanks for the lift,’ Rose said. The alcohol still coursing through her veins gave her a level of bravado she didn’t normally possess as she leaned over to lightly peck Luke on the cheek. The contact of her lips on his skin flushed her pale cheeks.

‘My pleasure,’ he said as he lent over to open her door. ‘Sorry, this latch sticks,’ he offered awkwardly in explanation for their close proximity. And for the second time that evening, Rose realised that she really didn’t mind. With the door opened, she carefully climbed out. Feeling emboldened by the cocktails still coursing through her blood she turned to tell him that. But he got in first, ‘Rose,’ he cleared his throat, ‘I’ve been thinking a lot about the other night, and I got you something.’ She held her breath as he opened the glove box, but was then utterly flummoxed when he handed her a heavy duty flashlight.

‘Erm…thanks?’ she grimaced a little as she took the gift.

‘I know you’re just being friendly, but I don’t think you should come up to the garage anymore. Especially late at night. You’ve got my number if you need to get in touch about the car.’ Stunned by his sudden change of indifference towards her, Rose didn’t say anything as he pulled the door shut and started to reverse away. He stopped though, leaning out the window to add, ‘But if you do end up going out on any evening walks, can you at least take that torch with you? And for the love of God, stay away from the beach?’ Then he turned back to looking over his shoulder without another glance in her direction, and backed the car up before driving away.

Chapter 9

‘Life is a storm my young friend’

The Count of Monte Cristo, Alexandre Dumas

That night Rose’s dreams, as they often did, took her to nineteenth century Paris as her carriage came to a halt in a walled courtyard. Carefully, so as not to damage the black lace of her midnight blue satin dress, she stepped out of her carriage into the crisp air of the moonlight. A young footman held out his arm to assist her into the imposing town house on Rue Elzevir. As the doors to the Parisian house opened, music escaped from within and fluttered away on the breeze. She whispered ‘Merci’ to the young man, who abruptly returned to his station, leaving her alone to enter the party. Managing to enter unnoticed, Rose slipped behind the velvet drapes that lined the room and found a spot to observe. In the centre of the room she spotted Edmond. She was getting better at finding him in her dreams. This wasn’t the first time she had been here. Each time was slightly different, though she would always find him. He was surrounded by his adoring fans, all wanting a moment to speak to him. She wished she was brave enough to step out of the shadows. What she would give to speak with him. To attempt to stop his self-destructive path.

Looking back at the spot she’d seen him, she was surprised to see that he had left his admirers and was ascending the sweeping staircase to her right. Now that he was closer she saw the error in her dream. It was not Edmond striding up the stairs towards her, but Luke. His dark curls neatly framed his face as he scanned the mezzanine floor that Rose had hidden herself on. In her lucid dream state, she took a moment to reflect on why he was here. She had never dreamt of anyone else in these dreamscapes. Her introspection was brought to an abrupt halt as, for a moment, it looked as if he had spotted her, as with purposeful strides he made his way towards her. His dark tail coat flapped at his cream velvet breeches as he came closer. Rose held her breath as he came painfully close, but let out a relieved sigh as he stopped a metre away and stepped outside onto the balcony. He just stood there, looking at the melee of people below, seemingly content with his own company. Rose found his proximity alarming; he was close enough to touch him. But her hand remained at her side as she studied him from the shadows. If it weren’t for the steady rise and fall of his chest, he could have been mistaken for a statue. Just as she was about to slip back inside, he reached into his pocket to retrieve a delicate locket, turning it gently in his hands. Slowly, carefully, he tried to open it, but he dropped it to the floor where it broke from the delicate chain. A solitary tear travelled down the course of his cheek. Noise from the room inside caught her attention and she turned away from Luke to see Edmond bounding up the staircase that Luke had just moments ago ascended. This was another anomaly in this dream that she’d had on countless other nights. Edmond never sought her out, it was always, always the other way round. Smiling at herself as she gently smacked herself on the forehead a few times she loved what her subconscious mind was getting her to play out. Steeling herself, she made her choice and stepped towards the curtain’s edge to comfort Luke.

The alarm on her phone pulled her from her dream state. Without having the time to process that the events in Paris weren’t real, it took her a few moments to work out where she was. She allowed herself a little sigh for what had been ripped away from her by an incessant alarm. An alarm, the irony not missed, that she’d set herself yesterday evening. If only ‘Yesterday Rose’ could have been a little less organised. A little less obsessively punctual. If her alarm had been set for even a few minutes later she would have reached Luke on that balcony. Although knowing her luck, even in her lucid dreams he would probably have rebuffed her again. Yes, that is most likely what would have happened. It wasn’t enough to be rejected in reality, her mind needed to be rejected in her sleep too. The detail of the locket troubled her though and she padded over to her bookshelf to check through her dream encyclopedia to see if there were any references to lockets. She was pleased to see a small section about them, finding out that lockets are a symbol of affection and connection, but can also be a warning about trials to come. The next paragraph though, made her breath hitch; broken lockets symbolise things that you have wanted for a long time that will never materialise. This seemed a cruel detail for her subconscious mind to make her dream version of Luke suffer though. She was certain that if Luke had been able to open that locket, it would have been Hannah’s face he’d see looking back at him. Someone who he couldn’t be with anymore, no matter how much he wanted to.

Struggling with coffees, and pastries, for her trip with Susie and still holding the dream book, Rose’s line of vision was seriously impaired as she made her way from the cafe back to the bookshop later that morning. Which meant it wasn’t long before she stumbled straight into someone. Tony managed to catch her before she fell, but the pastries weren’t so lucky.

‘Careful!’ Tony playfully admonished. ‘You need to be in full working order for later on.’

Luke’s voice startled her from behind. ‘What’s going on later?’

‘Morning Luke. Oh Rose is going to Flamborough with Susie.’

‘Wait, how did you know about that?’ Rose asked, confused.

‘Oh well, Susie came in for a coffee after talking to you and I overheard her chatting on the phone about her trip with you.’

‘Right. That’s nice,’ Luke said, slightly raising an eyebrow at Rose, as he knelt down to pick up the book closest to him. As he lifted the copy of ‘Dreams Explained’, she felt her face flush.

‘Yes…nice. I’m looking forward to it - never been to Flamborough. Although saying that, I don’t think I’ve been there. I didn’t think I’d been here before until Holly and Natalie recognised a photo of me down at the beach when I was like three. So who knows, maybe I’ve been there before too. Maybe I lived there once as well,’ Rose agreed with herself, and rambled on, as she bent down to pick up the croissants scattered across the street, her fingers brushed Luke’s as he did the same. The contact reminded her of their hug back at the garage when she’d spoken to him about Hannah, and of their close proximity in the car last night and the memories flooded her mind. But when she stole a glance at him, he just looked sad. Flustered and a little disappointed, she gathered the pastries together and made a hasty retreat. A minute or two after she reached her sanctuary of The Book Nook closing the door behind her, it opened again. Hoping it was Luke, she turned to find Tony there holding a fresh bag of croissants. ‘Perks of being the manager,’ he beamed, ‘I get to start late on Sundays and give out freebies!’ He lent by her to place the small paper bag on the counter behind her. He was so close she could feel his stubble. For a second she was worried that he was going to kiss her. Thankfully he moved backwards. ‘Sorry if I came across as intrusive just then. I hear so much in the shop and sometimes I don’t remember that I haven’t actually been told things face to face.’

‘That’s ok. Totally understand.’

As he turned and left, Rose was relieved to be within the quiet walls of the bookshop, with only books for company for a while.

‘Rose!’ Susie’s alto voice sing-songed into The Book Nook five minutes later, in a way that only a teacher’s can.

‘Susie,’ Rose called back.