Owl Woman Excerpt
Chapter 1 – Death
There is no death.
Only a change of awareness, a change of cosmic address
Bob Toben – Space-Time and Beyond
Suddenly Vicki was free, flying over the tree-tops, darkness rushing beneath her, moonlight blinding her. It all came into focus and she found herself hovering above the tower, as a barn owl. She knew it was a dream, one of those terrible ones where you’re out of control, no way out, there was nothing she could do.
A man stood below her, on the edge of the waterfall, something golden in his hands. He held it up to the light and now she could see it was the cup. No! He mustn’t do that! She tried to call out to him, tell him, but only the screech of the owl came out.
He ducked, startled, let go the cup and fell. She watched him plummet down the fifty foot waterfall and hit the pool like solid concrete. His body plunged through and carried on down to the bottom where he smashed his head open on the rocks. Slowly, he floated up to the surface again, pinwheeling like one of Van Gogh’s crazy stars.
She hovered over him, unable to cry, unable to speak.
Something bright glimmered in the water near him. He turned towards it, his finger pointing. It was the cup. How the hell was it floating? She strained to speak to him, but it was no good.
He caught her eyes. He could see her. Somehow he wasn’t dead yet. He tried to turn, to reach for the cup but, just as his fingers touched it, it slipped away from him and sank down into the water. He looked at Vicki desperately, his lips moving.
‘Remember!’ he said soundlessly. ‘Remember!’
Everything went hazy. Now, when she wanted to stay in the dream, stay with him, she was coming awake. She felt herself falling backwards down the long, dark tunnel towards the point of light at its end. She concentrated on it as the feeling left her body and consciousness slipped away into the mist.
Lightning jolted through her. She sat bolt upright in the bed just as the phone began to ring.
‘Vicki? Vicki?’ she heard Vera’s voice dimly through the fog in her head. ‘Vicki, Jacob is dead. Your father is dead.’
She sat still, clutching the receiver, hearing Vera’s voice calling to her but not knowing it.
‘Mummy? Mummy? Is that you …?’ she began.
‘Vicki, luv, tis Vera here. Luvvy come back, speak to me.’
The fog began to thin.
‘V-vera …?’
‘Yes, deary, it’s me, Vera. Can you hear me all right? Vicki? Vicki? You sound so far away, luvvy. Speak to me.’
‘Dad’s dead?’
‘Yes dear, your father is dead.’
Vicki sat staring, silence inside her and out.
‘Vicki …?’
The fog was nearly gone now. ‘Dead? … He’s dead?’
‘Yes … dead.’ Vera waited.
‘Oh Shit! Damn!’ Vera could hear her banging her hand against something. The noise stopped. Silence, then,
‘Daddy … I never said goodbye to you!’ Vicki whispered.
Vera choked off a sob herself, waited, then,
‘W-what happened?’ It was the child’s voice. The same child who asked where her mother was twenty-three years ago.
‘It was me as found ’im. He was in the Tower Pool, drowned. Us don’t know no more. Joe’s called the police. Will … will you come home now, me dear one? … we do surely need y’ ...’ Vera’s voiced trailed off into silence.
‘I’m coming,’ Vicki said at last. ‘I’m coming home. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Oh! Vera … Vera?’ but the line was dead.
She sat staring blankly at the receiver in her hand.
‘Daddy …? Where are you …?’ she cried out softly, but only her own voice echoed an answer.
Groggily, she switched on the light, pulled a blanket round her and stumbled down to the kitchen.
She could still feel the feathers on her face and see trees beneath her. She felt in limbo, hanging between worlds. She knew in her head she was in the kitchen of her own flat in London, that it was her tribal rug beneath her feet, not a forest. But her heart told her she was in the Wilderness.
She made tea, with sugar, choking on the sweet, syrupy liquid. I’m OK, she told herself, just in shock, nothing special about that, and she began to giggle, shaking the tea all over the floor. The giggling turned into shivering, crying. Oh god, I’m going mad, she whispered and hugged the blanket closer. Something in her auto-pilot made her pick up the phone and call Faye.
‘Hullo …?’ the groggy voice at the other end queried after several rings.
‘Faye … it’s m-me, Vicki.’
‘What?’ the voice snapped into focus. ‘What is it darling, what’s happened.’
Vicki tried to speak but nothing came out, she choked and sobbed into the phone.
‘Vicki? Vicki … it’s OK darling, I’m here, I’m here …’ Faye began to mumble on into the phone, giving Vicki time.
‘D-dad … d-dead …’ Vicki managed at last.
‘Hold on there, I’m on my way. OK? Vicki? You hear me? I’m coming to you, hang on … OK?’
‘O please be quick …’ Vicki sat clutching the receiver, the coldness ran through her. She wanted to run away to the place between the worlds where nothing happened, nothing hurt.
‘What am I going to do?’ she whispered into the silence.
Faye found her clutching the dead phone. Gently she wrapped her in another blanket and tipped Rescue Remedy down her throat. Vicki could feel Faye’s arms around her, the world began to come back into focus.
‘What are you going to do?’ Faye asked once she was fit enough to sit by herself on the sofa.
‘Go home.’
‘Are you OK? Can you drive? Shall I drive you?’
‘No!’
Then she turned back to Faye.
‘No, please. I’m better, look,’ and she held out her hand, ‘it’s steady now, no more shaking. See?’
‘I don’t know …’
‘But I do.’ Vicki walked a straight line to the kitchen and back. ‘Look, no wobbles.’ She came and sat on the arm of Faye’s chair. ‘Let me go. I have to go by myself. I need to. It’s no good with you, I’ll give up and let you look after me.’
‘Vicki … are you really sure?’
Vicki nodded. ‘I must go alone.’
‘OK … OK,’ Faye held Vicki, kissed her. ‘Can I help you pack? Get you something to eat?’
‘Food would be good. I don’t want to eat but I should, I suppose.’
‘Yes, you should,’ Faye watched Vicki’s back as she went up the stairs. ‘Fly well, dear one,’ she whispered.
As though she heard, Vicki turned and smiled down at Faye.
Later, Vicki took the car up the ramp from the underground car park and out into Vestry Street. The roads were quiet, silent, strange for London, even at half past four in the morning. She slid round the roundabout and up Old Street heading for the M3 and home. Merle would be there.