Cora pulled me onto the tube at Waterloo Station. Ten minutes later we stepped off at Clapham North. There was othing overly exciting this end of town that I knew of, but Cora clearly knew better.
We dodged commuter crowds as she led me around the corner onto the high street, and then furtively toward a nondescript, drum-shaped building set back from the road. Spiked railings topped the walls around it.
'This doesn't look friendly,' I said.
'It's not supposed to. Follow me.' She took me through a gate and out of sight of onlookers. She ignored the door as we passed it, and instead pointed me at a blank stretch of white-washed wall.
'This is the hard part,' she said. 'But you've already done it once, so I reckon you can do it again.'
'What's that I'm doing, now?'
'Unfocusing.'
I stared at her. 'That disappearing trick of yours? I can't do that!'
'It's not about disappearing,' she said, less than patiently. 'It's just about being less there. So you can see the other things that aren't quite there, as well.'
'How can something be 'not quite' there? Things don't only half-exist!'
'Fallen through many totally-there walls, have you?' she said sharply. 'Seen many completely-real books that can bite your fingers off? No? Then maybe you should shut up and listen to the expert.' She grabbed my hand and placed it on the wall. 'Start with this, and close your eyes. Sometimes the brain just gets in the way and keeps insisting it can see what it wants to see.'
I shut them obediently. The brick was cool under my palm.
'Now just . . . sort of . . . relax.' It was clear this wasn't an instruction that she was used to giving. 'Try to imagine yourself spreading out. Like your edges are getting really thin, like . . . like . . .'
'Like a piece of jam on toast.'
A pause. 'Yeah. Whatever works for you, mate.'
I did not feel like a piece of jam on toast. But I did feel like maybe a part of me was unravelling. I recalled the brief sensation of madness when I'd seen Cora walk through the wall in the museum, and the sinking feeling that some of my reality was coming undone. I could feel my stomach sinking now, leaving me lopsided and strangely heavy.
Cora was moving my hand over the wall. 'You got it yet?'
'Got what? What am I looking for?'
'Stop concentrating and just accept what your body is telling you. What can you feel under your hand?'
'Nothing. Only wood.' I opened my eyes, and saw the door.
Cora seemed amused. 'Not terrible, I guess. Only took you forever to find it. This way.'
She shoved the door open, hand still tightly gripping mine, and we plunged inside. The door closed with a slam.
'Hang on! What is this place? Where are you taking me?'
'No need to panic.'
'I'm not panicking!'
I could just make out her smirk in the low light. The room was windowless, and it took me a while to realise the faint light source was coming from an orb clutched in her fist.
'I thought you were holding a torch,' I said numbly as she pointed down a steep spiral staircase. It formed a double helix, so another staircase mirrored it on the opposite side of a caged column that filled the void between them.
YOU ARE READING
The Jack Hansard Series: Season Two
FantasyJack and Ang are back, and now they're officially in business together! They're a bit wiser to the danger around them, and getting closer to finding Ang's missing kin - while trying to make a fast buck out of rotten charms and wonky love potions on...