“Seen too many films lately?” I tease him, not angry anymore. He could always talk me round and I’m sure he’s just jealous, that’s all, above all because of the Bentley. I push my hair back, showing him my throat. “Look, no bites!”
“What a beautiful throat!” he murmurs, suddenly running his finger down to my collarbone. Whoa! But I don’t flinch, I know him so well, his hands, his touch, and it isn’t affecting me in any way. “And I’m sure you can take their photo and see their reflection in the mirror,” he keeps joking. I’m grinning but suddenly remember that I’ve never seen a single photo of any of them. And then it hits me, the one thing I’ve pushed to the back of my mind over the last wonderful weeks, and I go ice-cold: Cassius does have a reflection alright, but he doesn’t have a shadow.
Ralph was rather miffed when I left the bar shortly afterwards. I felt queasy and had to get away from him and his chat-up lines. Above all I want to go online and have a look at – what? Facebook? Google? I’m sure it’s the alcohol, but I have to make sure that there’s nothing mysterious about my friends. Quickly I return to our flat which is deserted and stroll from one room to the next looking for – what exactly? It really doesn’t mean anything that there are no photos, does it? They simply prefer art, and who wouldn’t? The only strange objects in the flat are the star-shaped mirrors in Rupert’s and Natalie’s living rooms, which always show different images. Cassius has one too, as does Will. I just assumed it was a holographic trick or something, I’ve never asked. Now I walk into Natalie’s living room and stand in front of the mirror, wanting to scrutinise it more closely. I flinch in surprise when it shows my reflection, just like an ordinary mirror, for the first time ever. But something in my face is not quite right and it takes a few seconds for me to register what’s different: there are strange blue lights in my eyes. My heart is beating very fast now and I run into the bathroom. I exhale slowly, no blue lights there, my amber eyes are staring back at me as they always do. It must have been a trick of the light. My cheeks are flushed and I groan. Ralph and his shitty vodka! Obviously I’m slightly drunk and have worked myself into a frenzy. My stomach hurts and I remember that I haven’t eaten today. Fucking Ralph! As soon as I meet him again I start to feel sick. Beautiful, rich, too good to be true. I keep repeating the words in my head. No reflection – that’s plain stupid! I’ve seen Natalie’s reflection lots of times in restaurant bathrooms and in this one too. She wouldn’t have a mirror in the flat if she had no reflection, would she? Oh, stop it, this is going nowhere.
I splash my face with cold water, feeling slightly better, but a certain uneasiness remains. There’s still the issue of the shadows which I’ve ignored over the last weeks. But immortals or different beings don’t exist, do they? Unbidden my sister’s warning comes to my mind. “There’s no William Summer at Rampton Towers.” I have to sit down on the bathroom floor, my knees suddenly weak. What if I’m crazy like my mum and none of my friends do actually exist? Like the imaginary friend lots of small children conjure up? With shaking fingers I take my phone out of my pocket and dial directory information. I give them Cassius’ name and hold my breath.
“I’m sorry, there’s no listing under this name,” the friendly girl replies. The room begins to spin, but then I remember that he’s maybe ex-directory. Shakily I get to my feet and return to my rooms and switch on my laptop. I don’t know what I’m looking for exactly. First I google all their names and there’s not one hit. Surely there should be something when one breeds horses and the other is a sculptor. When I put in ‘beings without a shadow’ there are certainly lots of hits. Everything comes up, shadow people, vampires… I blush that I’m even doing this. I must have searched for hours as it’s already dark outside and my eyes are burning. Tomorrow morning I’ll be flying to Madagascar. The others have already left, on cheaper flights, or so they said. Strange, like so many other things.
I think about my weird nightmares that only started after I met them. Is it coincidence or not? My head hurts and I’m in despair. Finally I do what I should have done hours ago, I call Cassius. The connection is terrible. “Cassius, where are you?” I whisper breathlessly. I wish he was here to hold me and reassure me.
“Already landed in Madagascar,” he replies. “You OK?” I’m so glad to hear his voice that I calm down a bit.
“Yes, I’m good, I just… wanted to hear your voice.” What else could I say? That his number’s not listed? That the encounter with Ralph has obviously rattled me? That vodka on an empty stomach turns me into a silly cow?
“I miss you, Livia. See you tomorrow, I love you.” Tears well up in my eyes and I suddenly can’t tell him that I love him too, so I break the connection.
I should go to bed, but I won’t be able to sleep anyway. Without having any real plan I find myself back in Natalie’s room. I know she’s far away and can’t surprise me but all the same I’m nervous. I randomly open a chest which is full of magazines and close it again, not knowing what I’m looking for. If I had a secret I’d probably hide it in my bedroom, so I walk into hers. I’ve only been in here two or three times. My gaze wanders to the bedside table where I notice the poetry book Will gave her recently and the latest edition of Vogue. Slowly I open a drawer, sighing in disappointment, or rather in relief, when the only things I find are a couple of calendars.
I take the top one out and leaf through it. She’s marked the coming weeks, Madagascar. On 26th June there’s a star with a question mark beside it. When I go back I notice that all the days we’ve met are marked with an L, how strange. There’s an entry on 18th February: Livia’s birthday, 110P/Hartley 3. What’s that supposed to mean? And why didn’t she congratulate me then, if she knew exactly when my birthday was? New Year’s Eve is circled in red. I put the calendar on the bed, taking out the other one. It’s last year’s and seems to have no entries at all. Only in August do I find an x on some of the days. And then, on 13th September there’s my name: Livia, with three exclamation marks. I stare down at the paper, not understanding. I met Natalie the day before New Year’s Eve, not earlier. Of course I know this date, it’s the day I saw Ralph for the last time before he dumped me. The second half of September and the rest of the year are full of L’s. 24th December is again circled in red with three exclamation marks.
Dazed I sink down onto the bed. In both calendars there’s only my name. No mention of any meeting with Ruth, Will or anyone else. And it started last September. I can’t fathom what this means but it sure looks like Natalie has been watching me for some time. Is she a stalker? I can’t breathe any more, I have to leave this room at once! I return to the star-shaped mirror, half expecting to see my horrified face but it’s the Chartreux cat that stares back at me. I stifle a sob, dashing the tears away with my hand. It’s obvious that I’m going mad or am involved in something I can’t comprehend. I look around, feeling trapped. I’m in THEIR flat, I’ve put myself at their mercy.
I jump when my phone rings. What if it’s Cassius? In a panic I look at the screen and sigh in relief. It’s not him, it’s Ralph, whose number I still know by heart. “Hi, Livia, I don’t want you to be angry with me, I’m sorry. Can we meet up?” A normal voice, thank god! And he’s offering me a way out. I take a deep breath, desperate that he shouldn’t realise the state I’m in.