Portent (18 page)

    'But today…'

    'A tremor, that was all. Not a full-blown earthquake, it wasn't serious enough for a vision.'

    'You really think what I saw in the eye of the storm was only a vision?'

    'For want of a better word, yes. And the children saw it again today, but it was unclear, unfocused, not like the other time. I think they saw it in your mind when you were in danger.'

    'Mental telepathy. Are you serious?'

    'You know I am.'

    Rivers reached for his drink again.

    'Don't be such a cynic, Jim,' Diane urged. 'For once in your life just accept what you hear, believe in the sincerity of others.'

    'Oh, I believe you're sincere.'

    'Let's not go through the whole debate again. I can't give you any proof, but you know within yourself that something unusual -and that's a pretty mild word-is going on in the world around us. Josh and Eva are part of it, that's all I'm asking you to believe.' She uncurled her legs and leaned towards him. 'And so are you, Jim. So are you.'

    

    

    The ICI-sponsored BBC 24-Hour Television Newsdesk naturally was full of the day's main event: the Great London Earth Tremor (the earlier title of the Great London Earthquake had been revised in later reports). Power lines had been damaged in some parts, quite a few buildings had been left structurally 'unsound', all public and private transport had been seriously disrupted, the River Thames had flooded at its weaker points; yet only four fatalities so far had been reported (one of these being the man that Rivers himself had seen sliced in half by falling glass), although there were many casualties. Rivers flicked through the ten channels, catching another disaster piece on SKY News-a freak hailstorm over Los Angeles had caused multiple collisions on the freeways and many deaths-but had returned to the BBC Newsdesk with its three excited newscasters every few minutes. He smiled as the attractive female of the trio advised that no more disturbances were expected; no doubt a mass exodus of the capital was the last thing the local authorities, with their token-only Civil Defence Corps, wanted to encourage.

    Evening had seemed to draw in both early and quickly, no doubt due to the dust and fine sand still in the atmosphere, and if anything, the air was even more sultry than it had been during the day. Voices drifted in through the barred window, many of the street's residents sitting on front steps or on chairs brought to open doorways, a custom of old London that had found a resurgence in these warmer times. The day's big event had enhanced the desire for doorstep gossip.

    Rivers switched on a lamp, realizing that he and Diane had been talking in the flickering shadows cast by the TV screen for the past half-hour or so.

    'D'you mind if I turn this off now?' he asked, indicating the television.

    'It'd be a relief,' she replied, fanning herself with a magazine from the coffee table. 'I think we know all we need to about today's little drama.'

    He used the remote control to switch off the set. 'Are you hungry?'

    'Famished.'

    'I could rustle up something unless you want to eat out.'

    'I don't think many restaurants will be busy tonight, but let's eat here anyway.' She flapped the neckline of her blouse. 'Do you mind if I take a shower? I feel sticky all over.'

    'Go ahead. There's a spare robe behind the bathroom door.'

    'You keep a spare?'

    'Occasionally it comes in handy.'

    'Can I ring home first, check on the children? Come to think of it, they might be worried about me.'

    'The main receiver's in here if you want to use it. Just press P for privacy and it won't come through the external speakers. I'll get into the kitchen.'

    'No need.'

    'S'okay. I'll be fixing us something quick. You like omelettes?'

    'Fine.'

    He rose and took the telephone receiver from its unit on the wall. 'Come through when you're finished,' he said, handing her the instrument. 'Have your shower after we've eaten.'

    In the refrigerator he found enough eggs for two omelettes and set about whisking them into a pulp, adding some mushrooms and chopped ham for good measure. Diane came in as he was setting the table.

    'They saw it happen,' she said.

    'The tremor?'

    'No. Later. They saw the hailstorm over Los Angeles. They saw the light again.'

    He lifted the omelettes from the pan on to the plates. 'Come on, eat,' he said.

    She looked at him incredulously. 'That's it? "Come on, eat?" Josh and Eva had another vision, didn't you hear me?'

    'Sure I heard. But I'm hungry. You are too.'

    She sat at the table. 'We're not getting through to you, are we?' About to return the pan to the stove, he paused. 'The truth is, you might be. What you just said didn't surprise me, that's all. Maybe I'm getting used to the idea.'

    'At last.'

    'I said maybe. Tell me about your call.'

    She picked up a fork and hived off a portion of omelette. 'Mm, not bad,' she said after her first taste. 'You're obviously used to coping for yourself.'

    'Years of practice. The kids-what happened?'

    'I spoke to Bibby. She was quite anxious about us both. Apparently the first reports of the tremor were wildly exaggerated. She calmed down soon enough when I told her the damage was pretty limited. She was really concerned though when she heard you'd been in the thick of it.'

    He joined her at the table, sitting opposite.

    'Josh and Eva went into one of their trances-well, not a trance exactly. They just stop what they're doing and become very still and quiet. You'd think they were listening for something if you saw them-their eyes look to one side, never straight ahead, you know, like when you hear something but aren't quite sure of its source? After a while they close their eyes.'

    Rivers began to eat, but scarcely tasted the food.

    'Sometimes they've "gone" for a few minutes,' Diane continued, 'other times just a few seconds. Today was a quick one. They saw the little light and then what they described as big rocks falling from the sky, killing or hurting anybody they struck.'

    'Hailstones.'

    'Giant hailstones. A freak hailstorm. And in Los Angeles of all places.'

    'They knew it was there?'

    'They knew it was over the ocean. Don't ask me how, they just seem to sense the distance.'

    For a moment Rivers had wondered if the children had confused what they saw with the falling glass caused by the earth tremor in London.

    'They described the roads, some high in the air.'

    No, no confusion. Another thought struck him. 'They could have seen or heard it on the news.'

    'We heard the first reference to it no more than twenty minutes ago, and Bibby swears they only heard it around the same time. The children had their vision well over an hour before, around 5.30 our time.'

    Rivers had eaten only a few mouthfuls, his appetite not lost but never really there in the first place. He went to the fridge and took out a can of beer, offering it to Diane first. She declined and he returned to the table pulling the tab. He poured the beer into his empty vodka glass.

    'Why Josh and Eva?' he said, taking his seat again. 'What makes them so special?'

    'We're not sure they are so special. We think there are others like them. You see, the children themselves are aware of other minds experiencing these… these recognitions, whatever they might be called.'

    'How many others?'

    'It's impossible to know. What frightens us is that the twins also

    feel a malevolence out there, something harmful to them.'

    Rivers was still too exhausted to become irritated again. Besides, he saw no point: nothing he could say would make this woman-and her family-understand how ludicrous their story was. He attempted a slight diversion: 'Tell me more about Josh and Eva. You said they were Romanian orphans…'

    She realized why Rivers had redirected the conversation and did her best to disguise her own irritation. What in hell did it take to get through to this man? 'Tony and I knew we could never have children even before we married-my fault, not his. I won't bore you with the medical reasons-twisted fallopian tubes and all that. But as the years went on I yearned for kids, maybe because I felt it might stabilize a rocky marriage, or maybe it was natural maternal instincts. Probably some of both. But adoption in this country of yours isn't such a straightforward thing. Council waiting lists are so long, the requirements so tight, and Tony… well Tony had his own problems that, unfortunately, were visible to others.' Rivers was curious, but did not press her.

    'Even private agencies ultimately let us down. Then, as you'll remember, the world began to hear stories of the Romanian children, so many of them abandoned or orphaned, left to die of malnutrition and lack of care in squalid homes. Word filtered through to the West after the Romanian leader Ceaushescu and his wife had been shot by their own people, and things began to loosen up over there. It took time, but I made enquiries, booked a flight and spent two weeks searching the orphanages of Bucharest.'

    'Without your husband?'

    'Tony's mother, Bibby, went with me.'

    'Didn't the authorities over there expect to see a married couple?'

    Her smile was grim. 'Believe me, they didn't want to put any complications in our way. As far as they were concerned, one mouth less to feed was okay by them. Despite money pouring in from other countries to help them in their plight, their resources were still limited. And anyway, they hardly cared a damn. Oh, it wasn't as easy as I'm making it sound-if the child had been abandoned, then every effort was made to contact the mother, and that could take weeks, if not months. Once found, she had to be encouraged to sign the release papers. An exchange of cash usually helped the persuasion, although most times it was unnecessary.'

    She finished the omelette and pushed the plate away. 'You're not making much headway with yours,' she said, pointing at his plate.

    'I'm not that hungry.' He took another mouthful to satisfy her.

    'You have water?'

    'Couple of cold ones in the fridge.'

    She went over and took out a square plastic bottle. She poured the pure water into a fresh glass. 'Like I said, we toured the Bucharest orphanages to begin with, but… well, the best I can tell you is something didn't feel right.' She shook her head at his unspoken question. 'Sorry, I can't explain why. Call it instinct, an…'

    'Intuition?'

    'At the risk of straining my credibility even further, yes, an intuition. Then we heard of a place in Outer Moldavia, a particular institution for what the Romanians called the "irrecuperable". AIDS babies, the physically handicapped, and gypsy children. Have you any idea of what little regard these people have for gypsy children, especially if they've been abandoned? In those days they treated them no better than wild animals, locking them away from the other kids, feeding them last with scraps and leftovers-not that there was much left over in these places. Thank God the new government there has finally taken responsibility for these institutions. In those days, and maybe even now, these kids were regarded as "tainted". We found Josh and Eva in a dirty basement room, the size of a closet, sharing a cot, their little bodies emaciated, their eyes huge and staring. Just babies, tiny babies, four or five months old. The nurses hadn't even bothered to name them.'

    There was an edge to Diane's sadness, a suppressed fury that tightened her features.

    'But those eyes, those clear blue eyes. Gypsy children with blue eyes. Maybe it was those eyes that drew us to them. No, it had to be something stronger, something inexplicable. Pity? There were so many others to pity. But we knew those two were coming home with us. It took a whole lot of wrangling, a great deal of arguing, but we eventually got all the legal documents signed and sealed. From the town's mayor to the local authority's lowliest clerk-we got them to agree. Within six weeks the babies were on the plane, on their way home with us.'

    Rivers sipped the beer. The air was muggy, but also charged, as though a thunderstorm were brewing. He looked through the kitchen window and saw no clouds in the darkening sky.

    He examined the rim of his glass. 'Do they know they're adopted?'

    'Of course. I told them when they were old enough to cope, but still young enough for it to be no big deal. They're aware they're gypsy children and they have no hang-ups about it. Quite the opposite-they're pleased at the idea.'

    'When you found them, were they…?' He didn't quite know how to put it.

    'Normal?' she finished for him. 'Even tiny babies know when they've been maltreated. But they adjusted to love and care after a while. Now if you mean were they unusual in their nature, then no. Apart from those sparkling blue eyes that seemed to look into your very soul, they were regular kids, although they had that special affinity between twins, sometimes acting and thinking as one. I guess they were about four when we first noticed the odd things I told you about yesterday.'

    'You also mentioned something or someone was trying to harm them. A malevolence, you called it. You mentioned it again a little while ago. What-what exactly-do you mean?'

    'I wish I could say. It's just a feeling they have.'

    He grimaced at the inadequate answer. 'Okay. You also said I'm involved in whatever's going on. Can you explain that?'

    Elbows on the table, she spread her hands. 'I wish I could. Somehow the children have made a connection between you and the light, maybe because at the moment you're the only live person we know who's witnessed it. Tell me, before the research plane crashed-were you the only person to see it?'