The door opened suddenly, and there she was, even more beautiful than ever. The more casual look suited her. And her mouth was every bit the perfect thing he’d thought it was. Unfortunately, her mouth wasn’t smiling at him. In fact, she was looking at him as though trying to figure out what he might be selling. Toby tried to say hi, but his breath was still trapped in his throat, so he thrust the roses at her, to speak for him. Gayle accepted the roses, carefully avoiding the thorns.
“Oh, how nice,” she said. “You killed some flowers for me.”
Her tone wasn’t exactly what he’d been hoping for. In fact, for a moment Toby was sure she was going to throw the roses back in his face, but she just sighed and stepped back, indicating for him to come in with a jerk of her head. Toby stepped quickly forward into the narrow hall, just in case she might change her mind. Gayle pushed the front door shut, and then headed back into the house, leaving Toby to follow her. He looked quickly about him as he hurried to keep up, trying to get some sense of Gayle’s character from how she chose to live. The walls were decorated with pretty flowered wallpaper, the furnishings were basic but elegant and the carpeting had a cosy, worn-down look. An old-fashioned barometer hanging on the wall was stuck on changeable. Toby tapped the glass with a knuckle, but the needle didn’t even quiver. Gayle went into the kitchen, and Toby hurried after her.
The kitchen was bright and airy, morning sunlight streaming through the open window. The walls were painted in pale pastel colours, and there were lots of polished wood surfaces. The fittings were elegant, some old enough to be classified as antiques. There were large posters on the walls, mostly of dolphins, swimming and frolicking in the open sea, and one very large poster from Greenpeace, with the word peace crossed out, and war written in above it in a large feminine hand. There were thick coloured candles, hanging wind chimes, and pots and pans and crockery all neatly arranged on shelves. Toby was impressed. His kitchen usually looked as though a grenade had gone off in it.
Gayle ran some water in her gleaming, spotless sink and put the roses into it. Then she sat down at the breakfast table and gestured briskly for Toby to sit opposite her. There was a lot of food laid out, as though she’d known he was coming. It was good food, and smelled delicious, but Toby was so nervous and on edge by now that he couldn’t have eaten a forkful even if she’d put a gun to his head. It didn’t help that he still couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t sound trite or forced or just plain simple-minded, and Gayle was still looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain himself. For a long while they just sat and stared at each other.
She really was beautiful. Toby thought of telling her that, but decided she probably already knew. She wasn’t beautiful like a fashion model or a film star, with that artificial, high-gloss look, all the little imperfections carefully removed by computer. Gayle looked … utterly female. Womanly, lovely, warm. As if he could curl up with her and be safe and happy for ever. As if she was the other half of his life, and could finally make him complete. Sexy, but in a calm, unhurried way. Confident, as though she no longer felt she had to prove anything. In fact, for first thing on a Saturday morning, she looked pretty damned amazing. All of which made Toby feel even more scruffy. His leather jacket creaked loudly as he shifted in his seat, and for one horrible moment he thought he’d farted. He quickly took the jacket off and draped it over the back of his chair.
“You came to me from the magical world,” Gayle said suddenly. “When you passed through my door, you were translated back into reality. I felt it. How are you finding the magical world?”
“Confusing.”
“Understandable. I have always preferred to live in the real world as much as possible. Also I usually prefer to keep my own company, in my time off. How did you find me?”
“Carys Galloway told me where you live.” Toby felt a little easier now they were on neutral ground. “She said I was a focal point. That you and I were fated to be together.” Once he’d started talking he couldn’t stop, and he actually blushed as he heard himself say the bit about fate. It sounded appallingly arrogant. “Fated to meet, I mean. This morning. Here.”
“If the Waking Beauty sent you here, then there must be a purpose to this meeting.” Gayle frowned. “Damn it. I really didn’t need more complications just now. And focal points are always trouble. For everyone.”
Toby almost jumped out of his skin as something brushed against his leg. He looked down and found that a large tabby cat was rubbing itself against him with sensual thoroughness. He smiled and reached down to scratch its head, and it purred loudly, pushing up against his hand. Toby looked round the kitchen, and suddenly it seemed that the whole room was full of cats. There had to be at least a dozen of them, of varying types and colours, all of them looking rather … well, battered, really. Knocked about by life. Gayle smiled at them all.
“I collect strays. They turn up out of nowhere, the products of bad lives and worse luck, and I haven’t the heart to turn them away. They come and they go, but there are always more to replace those who leave. I seem to attract strays.” She looked at Toby, but he didn’t get the point. She sighed quietly. “What do you want from me, Toby?”
Love. Sex. Walking hand in hand for the rest of our days, under a perfect blue sky, with all the birds singing …
That was what Toby wanted to say, but he couldn’t, so he played for time by looking round the kitchen again. He couldn’t believe how clean it was. His kitchen always looked … lived-in. He noticed abruptly that there was a lacy black bra lying crumpled beside the sink where his flowers were, and he looked quickly away, obscurely embarrassed. Gayle sighed again, and poured him a cup of tea. It smelled sharp and clean, with a hint of herbs he didn’t recognise. He reached out to take the cup she handed him and there was a definite spark as their fingers touched. Toby saw Gayle’s eyes widen just a little, and knew she’d felt it too. Neither of them said anything. Gayle busied herself with her cup. Toby sipped cautiously at the steaming tea. It was delicious; probably didn’t dare be anything else in a perfect kitchen like this. Toby studied the delicate china of the cup and saucer. It was decorated with an intricate design of owls made out of flowers.
“You seem vaguely familiar,” Gayle said finally. “Did we ever meet before last night?”
“We take the same train home from Bath every evening,” said Toby. “I’ve seen you lots of times.”
Gayle shook her head. “Sorry. Doesn’t ring any bells.”
Toby felt disappointed and a little crushed, even though he’d always gone to great lengths to avoid being noticed as he watched her. He felt somehow that she should have known.
“So,” he said, for want of anything else to say. “What do you do, in Bath? What’s your job?”
“I work at a centre for children with problems. It’s privately funded. It’s part refuge, part surgery, part school. We get all kinds. Kids that are deaf or blind, handicapped, traumatised … survivors of sexual abuse. Some have AIDS, some ADS.”
“ADS?”
“Attention Deficit Syndrome, or whatever the hell they’re calling it this week. Kids too bright for the system, who can’t or won’t fit in. They play havoc with normal teaching systems, and disrupt classrooms, and the usual practice is to drug them up to the eyeballs. Turn them into obedient little zombies. Which is understandable, they can be right little bastards. But we try to channel their energies into more productive, more sociable patterns. It’s slow, hard work, but it has its rewards. Do you like children?”
“Yes, but I couldn’t eat a whole one.” Gayle laughed at that, almost despite herself, and they shared a smile. Toby hurried on. “I like kids in the abstract, but I don’t have much practical experience of them. I don’t know if I’d have your kind of patience. Do you have … children of your own?”
Gayle smiled. “I like to think they’re all my children. I care for them, help where I can, and do my best never to give up on them. What do you do for a living, Toby?”
“Ah,” said Toby, thinking quickly. “I’m connected with publishing. On the retail side. Interesting work. Look; can we please talk about what’s going on? All the weird shit I’ve seen today? What really happened last night? Why does the town I’ve lived in most of my life suddenly seem so different? And please don’t use the word magic again. I don’t believe in magic, or any of that stuff. I’ve read everything from The Golden Bough to Chariots of the Gods, and I’ve never been convinced by any of it. Have I crossed over into some kind of alternative dimension? That at least sounds scientific‘
“Science arises out of the real world,” said Gayle, almost sympathetically. “That isn’t all there is. The universe is much bigger than that. You can’t think in such limited terms any more, Toby.”
“Let’s start with last night,” Toby said doggedly. “There was a door, where there wasn’t a door before. We walked through it. Everything changed. How?”
“We were in the real world last evening,” Gayle said patiently. “You and I, on the train, on the platform. Then in the car park. It was raining. I was … impatient. So I opened a door, between the real world and the magical world. Between Veritie and Mysterie. I can do that. I have powers, responsibilities. I decided it wasn’t raining in Mysterie, and so it wasn’t.”
“You made the door appear. I thought there was no magic in the real world?”
Gayle nodded approvingly. “You’re starting to catch on. There are doors everywhere: natural fault-lines, fractures, between the two worlds. People like me, and now you, with a foot in both worlds, can see these doors, these openings, and can pass through them. Sometimes people fall through by accident. There are many stories of people disappearing suddenly. Look them up if you want. Down the centuries people have blamed the disappearances on everything from fairy rings to UFOs. Anyway, the point is, you followed me through the door I opened, and into Mysterie. You are now part of, and aware of, the magical world, and it is becoming aware of you.”
“What … were you, originally?” said Toby slowly. “Real, or magical?”
“I’ve always been both,” said Gayle, smiling. “It’s part of my nature. But I prefer to live in the real world; it keeps me grounded. Still; don’t you go thinking that what you and I have done is in any way normal or ordinary. Usually the worlds are strictly separate, and people are discouraged from travelling back and forth. Science and magic are never supposed to meet, or interact.” She frowned, choosing her words carefully. “Magic isn’t illusion. Mysterie is the reality beyond the reality you know, the world from which your world unfolds. Veritie, the real world, is the subtler of the two realms.”
“So which came first?” said Toby. “Veritie or Mysterie?”
“Which came first, you or your shadow?” said Gayle. “They’re just two aspects of the same thing. Look, you’re getting the Easy Readers version here. You’re not ready to go wading too deep into philosophical waters. People have been deliberating the nature of these and other realms for countless centuries. There is no rule book, no instruction manual. We live in our own worlds, and we learn by doing. I’m just trying to explain enough to keep you out of trouble. Mysterie is a much more dangerous world than Veritie.”
She stopped, and looked at him silently with her dark, all-seeing eyes. Toby never once considered looking away. Gayle sighed again.
“Toby, I couldn’t help but notice the way you’ve been looking at me, and I have to tell you, it’s not going to happen. You mustn’t fall in love with me. Trust me on this. There are reasons why not. Good reasons.”
Toby just grinned. “Too late: I’m yours. I fell in love with you the first time I saw you, and that was months ago. You might as well ask a salmon not to swim upstream, or a butterfly to change back into a caterpillar. It’s a done thing.”
“I’m just trying to prevent you from getting hurt. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
“I know all about being hurt,” said Toby. “I’ve been hurt by experts, and I’m still here. Sorry; that sounded self-pitying, and I do try not to be. What I meant was, I’m not afraid of wading into deep, dark emotional waters.”
“You don’t understand, Toby.” Gayle steepled her fingers under her chin, and looked at him almost sadly. “Do you remember all those old folk tales and songs, about mortal men falling for magical women and coming to sad, horrible ends? Those songs were written about women like me as a warning, to save men from themselves. I’m much older than I look, Toby, and there is more to me than you could ever hope to understand. Mortal must not love immortal.”
“And vice versa?”
“You’re determined not to listen, aren’t you? Let me say this as plainly as I can, Toby Dexter. You seem a nice enough sort, but I don’t love you, I don’t fancy you and I never will. We can’t even have enough in common to be friends. You should never have followed me through that door. But now you’re here, let’s talk about why the Waking Beauty saw fit to send you to me. I take that very seriously. Focal points can be dangerous to all concerned, if they’re not properly directed. In fact, that’s the only reason I haven’t kicked you out already. You and your damned roses and your sweet, helpless smile. I have been here before, and it’s never ended well. Will you please stop smiling at me! I don’t need a big clumsy puppy dog getting under my feet and cluttering up my life!”
“So you’re not going to throw me out?” said Toby, blithely ignoring everything he didn’t want to hear.
Gayle had to smile. “You’re a trier, aren’t you? Forget that, and concentrate on what matters. The Waking Beauty did say you were a focal point? You couldn’t have been mistaken?”
“No. It’s one of the few things I am sure about.”
“Damn. Focal points mean change. Often involving violent upheavals in the way the worlds run. Whatever happens, you’re not going to be popular, Toby.”
“Well, who decided I was going to be a focal point?” demanded Toby, just a little plaintively. “No one asked me. I didn’t get to vote on it. Isn’t there anywhere we can go to ask for a recount, or something?”
“Not if you like living,” said Gayle, thinking hard. “We’re dealing with the immaterial here … the higher realities, the shimmering realms, the Courts of the Holy. You really don’t want to go there. Especially not with your attitude. No; it’s up to us to try to figure out why you’re so important, or why you’re going to be. Focal points can bring about change by their actions, or inaction, or simply by interacting with others. The reasons usually only become clear in retrospect, after everything’s gone to hell in a handcart and we’re all busy trying to pick up the pieces.”
“But … I’m just me!” Toby protested. “I don’t feel any different. I certainly don’t feel at all powerful.”
“That’s the worst kind,” said Gayle darkly. “The subtle ones. You’d better come with me, and meet some of the movers and shakers in this town. Maybe between us we can figure out what you’re supposed to do, or be, so we can either defuse you, or at least point you in the right direction so you do the least possible damage. You’re going to have to stick close to me for a while.”
“Suits me,” said Toby, trying not to grin too widely.
“Please don’t smile like that. You don’t have a single clue what’s lying in wait for you. There are forces in Mysterie who would quite cheerfully rip your guts out if they knew you existed, just to keep you from upsetting their precious status quo. Come on; finish your tea. We’re going visiting. Try to make a good impression. You’re going to need friends and allies if you’re to survive long enough to do whatever it is you’re supposed to do.”
“This is Saturday,” Toby said firmly. “I am not putting on a suit and tie for anyone. Besides; good impressions aren’t exactly what I do best. With me, what you see is pretty much what you get.”
“Oh hell,” said Gayle. “In that case, we’re in real trouble.”
“Cheer up,” said Toby. “I can pretend to be civilised, if I have to. What I can’t take seriou
sly is the idea that anything I might do could possibly change the world. Worlds. Now don’t look at me like that; I am taking your warnings seriously. There are people out there who want to kill me. Got it.”
“Not necessarily people,” said Gayle.
“All right; that’s scary. But it was my decision to follow you through the door, and I wouldn’t take it back if I could. I wanted to meet you, and be with you, and here I am. That’s all that matters. You really are rather special, you know.”
“Trust me,” said Gayle. “You have no idea how special.” She stopped and looked at him thoughtfully, appraisingly. “Toby … there are alternatives. You’re only in danger as long as you remain a focal point. And you can only be that here, in the magical world. I could make you forget everything. I could send you back through the door into reality, into Veritie, back to where you belong. You’d just wake up in your own bed, a little later than usual, and remember none of this. You could resume your old life, an ordinary man in an ordinary world. Safe from the burden of destiny, no longer a threat to the powers that be.”
“Go back to my old life?” said Toby. “I’d rather die. And it would mean forgetting you, wouldn’t it? I won’t do that. You’re the only special, beautiful thing that ever came into my life; and I’d rather die than give that up. I didn’t choose to fall in love with you; I just looked at you one day on the train and that was it, done. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. And just when I was beginning to think that love was something that happened to other people. Giving you up would be like giving up the only part of my life that matters. You can’t make me forget, can you? You need my consent. And I don’t give it.”