The Knowledge Stone (47 page)

He became more and more persistent, finally grasping her urgently by her upper arms, causing her to pull back in an attempt to free herself. By now, passers-by were looking at the girl with concern but were reluctant to intervene, not least because any interruption to their progress homewards would upset the absolutely fixed schedule that determined this extremely important journey. Nevertheless, it was obvious that a degree of ugliness was beginning to emerge at the entrance to the car park.

‘Let her go, Julian.’ Alex’s voice, firm, clear and confident. Julian recognised the voice.

He did not release his grip or turn around: ‘Go away, boy, this is between Sunia and me. This is adult business.’ His tone was harsh and unpleasant.

‘It is my business. Sunia is my girlfriend. We love each other. We have been together for four months now.’

Julian’s face altered dramatically to register shock, dismay and disbelief. How could this be happening to him? He loved Sunia strongly and passionately and he believed she loved him. He looked into her beautiful eyes. ‘Do you love me, Sunia?’ His voice at once urgent and pleading.

This was her chance. She must tell the truth, now. She spoke clearly and decisively. ‘No, Julian, I don’t. Not at all. In fact, I dislike you. I’m frightened of you. Let go of my arms or I shall scream!’

His mind awhirl, he released her and she jumped back out of his reach. Then he swivelled around to stand toe to toe with Alex. Silent and motionless, standing within an invisible, isolating cocoon of crackling negative energy, the two men glared with pure animal aggression deep into each other’s eyes, while many other grown men and women scuttled by, flitting shadows of humanity with eyes carefully averted. After a full twenty seconds, Julian’s eyes suddenly dropped and the energy field around them collapsed, instantly dismantled. Muttering incomprehensibly, he stumbled back in capitulation and, seemingly in an instant, melted away, defeated, diminished, emasculated …

He walked. He did not know whether he walked slowly or quickly. He did not know where he walked or for how long. Although his eyes were open, he saw nothing.

‘I have lost her.’ Within the confusion that was his brain, these words were repeated endlessly in a whirling mantra of utter despair. This was the truth and he recognised it as an endgame reality. Unmeasured time passed.

It was midsummer so the light remained strong. Now, as he walked, he began to add up the totality of what his life had become. He had lost her, the love of his life, the only love he had ever had. She hated him. He had no job and no prospects. He had no money. He had been convicted of a serious crime and sent to prison. He had a criminal record that would follow him for the rest of his life. And now, everybody disliked him, he who used to be so popular, so sought after. ‘Negatives, negatives, negatives,’ he muttered, ‘I’m done for, finished.’ Suddenly, he had to stop walking, his progress brought to a halt by a stout, well-constructed wooden gate. Bells were ringing and road barriers had been lowered. He looked across the polished steel rails which, within minutes, he knew would carry the speeding tonnes of steel that was the train from the city. As he leaned upon the gate, it moved freely; it was unlatched, unfastened from its automatic lock; it was ready to be entered.

The train driver still had nightmares about it, such is the sensitivity of the human brain. He did not like driving this stretch of line and tried to avoid being scheduled for it. Every time he approached this particular crossing, he had a powerful urge to slow the train right down, preferably to walking pace; he would then be in a position to stop if anything happened. On several occasions after the accident, he had actually done this. Unfortunately, this unexplained speed reduction was recorded each time by the train’s tachograph system and the District Manager had called him to his office to demand an explanation.

‘I’m sorry, I know how you must feel but your job is to run your train to the schedule. So, in future, do it, or I’ll have to take further action.’ The driver had been compelled to sign a paper saying he would obey the rules in future.

Now the train was approaching the crossing and the driver’s breathing quickened. He could not help resting his hand on the Emergency Train Brake Lever. He checked the speed – 99 kph, correct for this stretch of line. The crossing was coming up fast now – he could see the closed barriers and the warning lights flashing. Then he noticed a man leaning on the pedestrian gate – the same gate
she
had stepped from. The driver’s stomach leapt within him as he saw that the gate was slightly ajar! The hand on the emergency brake lever tightened, quivering with the tension of indecision. He would dearly have loved to apply the brake to its maximum extent but memories of his interview with the District Manager prevented the hand from moving.

Frozen with dread, he waited for the man to move forward on to the track. For a split second, their eyes met, then the train thundered through the crossing in a deafening cacophony of metallic sound, accompanied by sharp-edged gusts of dirty fume-filled air and vibration of earth-tremor proportions. Borne inexorably away, the driver squinted anxiously into his exterior rear-view mirror but could see nothing as the track bent around. His eyes flicked to the speedometer, reading 98 kph. He sighed with relief; on target, thank goodness.

Thirty minutes later, the train pulled into its destination. The driver set the brakes, shut down the engines and carried out the closedown checks. Then he scribbled his report:

‘Journey uneventful. No problems. Nothing to report.’ He removed the tachograph chart from the machine and stapled it to the report. Finally, he collected his belonging, locked the train and went to file his report at the office, familiar actions done hundreds of times before. But now he was apprehensive.

‘Nothing to report,’ he grunted at the Recording Clerk, ‘anything from your side?’ He waited tensely, feigning indifference. The clerk checked his log.

‘Nothing much. Somebody thought they saw a dog on the track earlier this afternoon.’ The tension flooded out of the driver and he expressed his relief in uncharacteristic joviality.

‘Good,’ he said in a joyful voice. ‘Well, I’ll be off home now.’ He left the office, humming tunelessly. The Recording Clerk followed his exit with puzzled eyes; this driver was known for his constantly taciturn manner.

Julian pushed the gate open and walked forward about three metres before turning at right angles to look along the shiny, converging lines of the railway track that led to the city: ‘It’s incredible! People actually throw themselves in front of speeding trains. I can’t understand it. I remember there was that girl from the office – she did just that. What a strange thing to do. Now what was her name …?’ Julian turned and walked to the gate at the other side of the tracks, racking his brains. After a few minutes he thought: ‘I think it began with “F”. Maybe “Frieda” or “Fran”, something like that.’ Suddenly he stopped with a little wan smile, ‘How typical of me! Always thinking about other people instead of looking after myself. That’s probably the reason I get into so much trouble!’

It was several weeks later and things had settled down at the Firm. Margarite had been confirmed as HDC and was firmly established in Julian’s old office. The promotion procedure for DHDC was under way and it was likely that Alex would be promoted into the post; he had been working as Acting-DHDC while Margarite was filling in as HDC. Although the formal decision rested with HR, Margarite had made it clear to them that she expected Alex to be successful. None of the other candidates measured up to his experience and skill and she considered he would make an excellent DHDC.

It was now obvious that DC had a serious office romance in progress. Sunia and Alex were deeply in love and Margarite thought it was only a matter of time before engagement and marriage would follow. She understood that Sunia’s parents had met Alex and that they approved of his liaison with their beautiful daughter. Her father had looked speculatively at this intelligent young man and could see him successfully occupying some higher-level posts in the international organisation he worked for.

‘But that will be for some time later,’ he thought.

It was now 6.30 p.m. Margarite had finished work half an hour earlier and come home to her house, rented some weeks after she had been unceremoniously ejected from Julian’s flat. Her friend had been very kind and allowed her to live with her until she could reorganise her life. It had been very unpleasant to return to Julian’s flat to recover her belongings. He had ignored her and had not even said goodbye when the time had come for her to leave. It had all been very upsetting and Margarite could not understand why he had treated her so badly. After all, she had loved him and, truth to tell, she still did. Love endures, with those who love remembering the halcyon days of their relationship rather than the problems and acrimony that may follow later. Now she thought she had come to terms with everything that had happened:

‘Maybe it’s all for the best,’ she mused, sadly.

Her doorbell rang. The opened door revealed a silent, subdued Julian. Despite herself, her heart leaped within her; love will not be controlled by logic.

‘Come in, Julian,’ she said quietly, ‘let me make you a cup of tea and we can chat.’ At first he was silent, staring into the tea in his cup but gradually he began to talk. Yes, prison had been a dreadful experience and the trial had been a nightmare. He was innocent of the crime – he would never have hurt Sunia (he hoped Margarite believed that). He loved Sunia but she did not love him; now, she was in love with that boy and that was that. He shook his head in disbelief and was silent for several minutes. Finally he spoke again, telling how a combination of no job, no prospects and no money had compelled him to move out of his flat.

‘So where do you live now?’ Margarite’s question was gentle. He did not reply but pointed to the rather battered, dirty BMW outside.

They sat quietly for some time as the light began to fade.

‘Julian, would you like to come and live here with me until you can get on your feet again?’ Julian looked up, meeting her eyes and smiling sadly – his best sad smile!

‘Margarite, could I really do that?’

‘Yes, Julian, you could. She may not love you, but I do.’

With tears of self-pity in his eyes, Julian said: ‘You know, this is the first good thing that has happened to me for so many months.’

In the small splintered wooden box in the boot of the BMW, the Stone glowed, somehow aware of an opposition to its functionality; its power of influence, transmitted through its possessor, had been countered by a greater force.

During its physical existence, latterly within the Unusual Stone Collection, the Stone was
aware
that power, function and action constantly defined its task. It was also
aware
that it had once been part of a huge mysterious whole. By contrast, it was
unaware
that the amazing whole still existed, though now as many units of remade fossilisation. It is a sadness that the Stone was
unaware
that it was not alone.
Unaware
that there was a multitude of other inert,
aware
objects in many places across the Earth, each one mysteriously power-charged, ready for its prescribed action. In reality, a proportion of this multitude would already be in operation, carrying out their designated functions of mystery. Many others would be awaiting human discovery, possession and physical contact – again.

Then, as the Stones were found, owned and achieved that inevitable physical contact, the mysterious power that was the purpose of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil would flow to their new owners instantaneously. This would
not
alter the character of these owners
in any way;
instead, it would turn them into powerful transmitters of their own knowledge and conviction of good and evil. From that moment, all other people coming into contact with the Stone owners would be instantly transformed into their psyc
hological and spiritual likeness for that period of contact. In other words, the people they met would instantly assume the attitudes of the Stone possessors – for good, for evil or both. There was, however, just one thing that could not be changed by this mystical power. Love could not be changed, altered or suppressed, for love transcends
all
other powers.