Blue Moon (Book One in The Blue Crystal Trilogy) (5 page)

Although I tried to put these
thoughts out of my mind for the rest of the day, I simply couldn’t.
And it wasn’t just the thoughts. It was the physical sensation,
too. Again and again I ran through the handshake in my mind and
could still feel the shock flowing into my palm. It was as if life
had suddenly taken on a fresh intensity, as if I was suddenly
living for the first time and seeing the world as a wondrous,
vivid, intense place, full of vibrant colours and sensual feelings.
Something had awoken inside me, or to be correct, Theo had awoken
something inside me, because it had taken his touch to unleash this
heightened awareness. One thing I knew with absolute certainty. I
had to see Theo again, I had to see him soon and I had to see him
alone, to find out exactly what was going on between us.

3.
Out Damned Spot

Sitting in her office, flicking
through a pile of files, the estate agent noticed a couple of small
brown circular marks on her hand. Always particular about beauty
routines and especially manicures – she was most proud of her
smooth hands and long red tapered nails – she stared in disbelief.
If she was not mistaken, they were age spots.

She looked again and could have
sworn they darkened as she looked at them. Surely they couldn’t be
age spots, not at 42? Age spots came when you were, well, late
fifties or sixties surely? And there’d never been age spots in her
family. Her mother had had beautiful, smooth white hands right up
to her death the previous year.

She put the thought out of her
mind and picked up the phone.

“Can you get me Mr Burrell of
Bushell Burrell and Brown on the phone please?” she instructed her
secretary. “I need to check where we’re up to on the Oakfields
Drive sale. It should have gone through last week. I can’t think
what’s delaying things.” Replacing the phone in its cradle, she
muttered to herself, “Well, I can actually. Solicitors. It’s always
solicitors. They think they’re so superior. But who does all the
work? Who phones up everyone in the chain to make sure the sale
goes smoothly? Estate agents, that’s who. If it wasn’t for us,
nothing would ever get bought or sold.”

She picked up a little hand
held mirror on her desktop so she could watch herself as she spoke
to Mr Burrell. Just a little quirk she’d developed that made her
feel so much more professional. So much more confident and
superior, a necessity when dealing with solicitors. Let’s face it,
you needed every small advantage you could find when dealing with
them. The phone rang and she picked it up, hearing her secretary
announce she had Mr Burrell on the phone for her.

“Mr Burrell,” she began, in her
firmest, most professional voice, admiring in the mirror her new
shade of lipstick. ‘Deadly Nightshade’ really suited her so well.
Added the perfect extra touch to her professional appearance. “I
was wondering if you could explain to me exactly what the delay is
on the Oakfields Drive sale. Really, it is too……”

But she got no further. With a
shriek, she threw down the phone, staring aghast at the face that
was reflected in her mirror. Surely this was not right? This had to
be a joke. She rushed from her office to the small ladies’ toilet
at the rear of the building, locking the door carefully behind her,
then forcing herself to look in the large mirror above the
washbasin. What she saw made her gasp in horror.

Instead of the immaculately
permed tresses her hairdresser had perfected only that morning, her
hair hung about her face, wispy and lifeless. And instead of the
Honey Blond hair colour with white blond lowlights she’d so
fastidiously selected earlier that morning, it was matted and grey,
with streaks of dirty white, like old cotton wool. But it wasn’t
the hair that caused her to gasp so much as her face. Gone was the
carefully made-up, cleansed and toned skin of which she was so
proud, to be replaced with sagging, bagging, ancient pouches that
hung beneath her eyes and either side of her mouth, like an ageing
elephant. Her skin was now the colour of old parchment, dried and
brittle. Her eyes once clear and bright were now red ringed and
bloodshot, drooping downwards to match the general direction of the
rest of her face. Feeling something in her mouth, she spat it out
and was aghast to see two yellowing teeth fall into the basin,
leaving her with a witch-like gap in the middle of her mouth. The
remaining teeth were blackened and decayed. Her posture she noticed
was stooped and low, and her clothes hung on her shrunken frame,
now at least three sizes too big for her.

“My God, I’m an old hag,” she
said breathlessly to the mirror and her voice sounded rasping and
cracked. “With every minute that passes, I’m getting older and
older,” she stopped abruptly, as she took in the ramifications of
what lay ahead. “At this rate, I’ll be dead by tonight…..”

A knocking on the door brought
her back to her senses and she panicked as she heard her name being
called out. No one must see her like this, of that she was certain.
The knocking and shouting sounded again and she looked around for a
means of escape. There was none. No small back window, no other
means of getting out. She was trapped and about to be
discovered.

Once again, she heard her name
being called and then felt someone gently rocking her shoulder.
With a jolt, she sat upright, and uttered a small cry. Oh joy of
joys, she was in her own bed and it was her husband who’d been
calling out her name. The hideous hag experience had been nothing
but a bad dream.

“You were dead to the world,”
her husband informed her with relish, words which made her shudder
with revulsion.

“I was having the most dreadful
nightmare,” she told him, holding her head in her hands and feeling
quite weak. “I dreamed I’d turned into an old hag.” She looked up.
“Quick pass me that hand mirror,” she instructed him.

He gave her the small gilt
mirror from the dressing table and she held it up to her face,
examining herself closely. She gave a sigh of relief. If anything,
her face looked younger. Her eyes were bright, her skin taut and
her complexion fresh. She smiled at her reflection and noticed,
with satisfaction, that even the minuscule wrinkles at the corner
of her eyes had completely disappeared.

“You’re looking beautiful,
dear,” said her husband, “I don’t know which rejuvenating potion
you’ve been using recently, but it’s having marvellous results. You
could easily pass for a twenty-year old. Here, I’ve brought you a
cup of jasmine tea. You’ll just have time to drink it.”

She went to take the cup of tea
from him, but before she could grasp the handle and savour the hot,
steaming liquid, she let out a scream of terror.

On the back of her hand were
three brown age spots….

4.
Missing Theo

Wednesday morning, I woke early
at 6am and could not get back to sleep. Although I’d met Theo for
less than a couple of minutes, I couldn’t get him out of my mind.
Those few minutes had turned my world upside down and I knew
instinctively that nothing would ever be the same again.

Something had happened between
us, some deep connection and I was totally unsure what would happen
next. I hoped and prayed that he would come and find me at college,
declare his undying love and sweep me off my feet. That was my
ideal. Or at worst send me smouldering glances across the corridor,
too overcome by the depth of his feelings to articulate how he
really felt. I chose not to consider that nothing might happen,
that was simply too unbearable to contemplate.

Just thinking of the
possibilities, I felt a sense of excitement building within me,
tinged with trepidation and anxiety. It was a delicious pain that I
didn’t want to stop. I felt drawn to him, like a moth to a flame,
and although a little voice inside told me to be careful, that I
could get very badly burned in the process, I chose to ignore it.
If Theo was interested in me, I was powerless to resist. The
attraction between us was just too great and I felt as if every
moment of my life had been leading to this point.

I tossed and turned until the
alarm went off at 7am, then surprised my mum and Granddad by being
first at the breakfast table.

“What’s this?” said Gramps,
walking into the kitchen and seeing me sitting at the table sipping
a steaming mug of black coffee. “Up before us? Something’s afoot.
It’s not an exam day, so it’s got to be a boy.”

“Of course it isn’t,” I replied
indignantly. “Just woke up early, that’s all, and thought I’d get
an early start.”

“Morning!” said my mother,
walking in. “You’re up early, Emily. What’s the matter? Is anything
wrong at school?”

“Honestly, can’t a person get
up early without being given the Spanish Inquisition?” I protested.
“There’s nothing wrong.”

“Fine,” said my mother, knowing
when to back off. “Would you like some toast?”

“No, I’m not really hungry,” I
said, staring into my coffee cup, wondering what the day ahead
would bring.

“Lovesick,” said Gramps, and I
caught him giving my mum a wink.

‘I am so not,” I responded, a
little too quickly. “Okay, give me some toast.”

I waited impatiently while my
mother loaded up the toaster, feeling suddenly edgy and
irritable.

“Got any plans for the Easter
holidays, Emily?” asked my mother, buttering the toast far too
slowly for my liking. “Don’t forget, I’ll be working most of the
time, so I won’t be around.”

The Easter holidays. How could
I have forgotten? Just three days left of the spring term, just
three days to get it together with Theo. And what if I didn’t? The
thought of spending two weeks at home, on my own, not seeing him,
sent me into a blind panic. But if something did happen between us,
then we had two whole weeks away from school to really get to know
one another. I fast forwarded mentally and saw myself being invited
to Hartswell Hall, walking up the long driveway to find Theo
waiting for me at the door, smiling and gorgeous. I saw us
exploring the old house together, looking at the renovations,
taking long walks in the splendid grounds, hand in hand. I saw us
laughing, talking, telling each other our life stories,
kissing…

“D’you want jam on this,
Emily?” my mother’s voice broke into my thoughts and I came
crashing back down to earth.

“Yeah, whatever.”

This preoccupation with the
mundane was getting very tedious. “I’ll probably hang out with Tash
over the hols,” I informed my mother. “Don’t worry about me. And I
have a college assignment to write for English Lit. Anyway,
Granddad will be at home if I need anything, won’t you,
Gramps?”

“Always here, at your beck and
call,” Gramps smiled at me, his watery blue eyes twinkling in his
old, lined face.

I smiled back at him and giving
him a kiss on his forehead, I picked up the toast in one hand,
school bag in the other and made for the door.

“Gotta dash,” I said, stuffing
the toast in my mouth. “See you later…”

“Bye,” called my mother, as I
ran from the kitchen. I felt suddenly claustrophobic and needed
some fresh air. I needed to get to school. I needed to see
Theo.

But disappointment awaited me
at school. Neither Theo nor Violet was there. At the start of each
lesson, I waited for Violet to walk through the door, but she never
showed. At break, I rushed to the locker area, hoping to see either
Violet or Theo, but neither appeared. At lunchtime, I scoured the
café, hoping for a glimpse of them, but there was nothing. They
clearly had not come into school and I felt desperate, wondering
where they were and what they were doing.

Something must have happened to
stop them, I reasoned. You didn’t enrol at college and then simply
fail to show up. What if there’d been an accident? What if they’d
been hurt? Dare I go up to Hartswell Hall to find out if they were
okay? Did I know them well enough? What if everything was fine and
there was a good explanation? I’d look pretty stupid. Get a grip, I
told myself, determined to rein in my thoughts and think
rationally. But try as I might, I couldn’t get the thought out of
my head that their absence had something to do with me and my
strange meeting with Theo.

“Emily, what is the matter with
you today?” asked Tash irritably. “You’ve haven’t heard a word I’ve
been saying.”

“Sorry, Tash,” I mumbled, “not
feeling myself today.”

We both sat at a table in the
cafeteria, picking at our lunch, and not relishing the thought that
we had another History tutorial coming up.

“I just said I’ve brought you
that face pack I mentioned. The one that makes your skin look
amazing.”

She took a small plastic pot
out of her bag and slid it over the table to me.

“Oh, okay, great,” I said
unenthusiastically, picking it up and reading the label. “
‘Beer
Bio-phase Pick-Me-Up Facial. Revives the parts other facials cannot
reach.
’ You have to be joking, Tash.”

“No, it’s really good stuff,”
she protested, “makes your skin feel fantastic, really smooth. Just
smells a bit beery, that’s all.”

“Alright, cool, I’ll give it a
go, if it’ll keep you happy.”

I peered over her shoulder as a
crowd of students came into the café.

“Who are you looking for?” she
demanded. “Every time someone walks through the door, you look up
expectantly. Oh, I get it. It’s Violet, isn’t it?”

“No,” I answered, half
truthfully.

“Well, who then?”

I hesitated, wondering how much
to tell Tash, knowing she wasn’t going to like it. She’d already
warned me off Violet. If I told her about Theo, she was going to
like it even less.

“I’m not looking for anyone,
I’m just worried about the English assignment, that’s all,” I
lied.

“Are you?” asked Tash, looking
surprised. “What are you doing for it?”