The Aura (4 page)

“Hi everyone!” I called as I let myself into my brother’s house, a red brick, semi-detached on the outskirts of Oxford. I’d made good time on the drive up from London, in light of Saturday afternoon traffic.

“Hi Aunt Kate.”

Aidan and Gabe were leaning over the coffee table with remotes in hand, concentrating closely on whatever computer game they were playing. Their blonde heads were almost touching, and their long legs were splayed out in identical blue jeans and Converse sneakers so it was hard to tell which limbs belonged to which boy. I continued on to the kitchen where I could hear the clink of dishes.

“Kate!” Leo straightened up from loading the dishwasher. He leaned forward to give me a peck on the cheek. He was six inches taller than me, his lean body clad in a black t-shirt and skinny jeans. His dark brown hair was thick and glossy, and he had the same blue eyes and long dark lashes as me. Everyone said we looked like twins.

“What do you have there?” he asked, eyeing the bags I was carrying.

“Dinner,” I said, pushing a pile of plates to one side and unloading everything on to the counter. “I thought we could go Italian. I brought prosciutto, Parmesan, those little stuffed peppers you like, and olives. Bread of course, and a bottle of Brunello…” I stopped when I saw Leo’s expression.

“What?”

“I promised the boys we would have fish and chips tonight,” he said.

“They can have fish and chips any night.”

“No, they can’t because I won’t let them,” said Leo firmly. “It’s a treat because it’s Saturday and first day of their half-term break.”

“Well, let the boys have fish and chips. We’ll eat this. All the more for us.”

Leo nodded. “All right. You open the wine while I run to the chippie to pick up our order. I’ll be just ten minutes.”

I put plates and cutlery out on the kitchen island, retrieved two dirty wineglasses from the dishwasher, washed and dried them. There were no napkins to be found, so I folded pieces of kitchen towel into triangles and laid them by the two plates. I opened the wine, poured a little of the deep red liquid into each glass, then took a sip. It tasted of sun and warm earth. I rotated my shoulders, trying to roll the tension of the morning away. I wanted to check in to make sure Sophie was recovering but didn’t know which hospital she’d been taken to. I didn’t even know her second name.

In the living room, the boys were shrieking in excitement and I wondered how Leo managed to stay so calm. He was a great Dad, single since his wife ran off with the realtor who had sold them this house two years ago. He was a math professor at Oxford University. Somehow, he managed to juggle his teaching with ferrying the boys to and from school, sports clubs and music lessons. I knew that cleaning and laundry came pretty far down the to-do list; the house had a faint odor of cooking fat and sweaty socks.

“What are you doing, Katie?” Leo came in with two white carrier bags. The smell of fish and malt vinegar filled up the kitchen.

I jumped. “Just straightening things a little.”

“You were arranging the mugs so the handles all point in the same direction,” he said accusingly, looking at the shelf holding the offending crockery.

“Well, it makes it easier to get them down that way.”

“Here, help me dish this up. The boys can eat out of the paper. It’ll save washing up later.”

I realized that Leo had ordered enough for all four of us and felt a pang of guilt. It had never struck me to ask whether he would have preferred to eat fish and chips. We gave the boys their food, although I winced at the thought of what havoc the greasy meal would wreak on the sofa. Then Leo and I settled on the stools at the kitchen island.

“Cheers.” Leo clinked his glass against mine. He looked serious. “Are you all right?” he asked. “You seem a bit jumpy.”

I told him about the near-drowning in the park that morning. “The little girl will be all right,” I said, “but it was scary.”

“Goodness, Katie. That’s rough. Good for you for saving her.”

He paused, took a sip of wine. “I’ve been worried about you ever since Dad called. How are you feeling? Dad said your legs were pretty banged up. It can’t have helped to be jumping in and out of ponds like you did this morning.”

“I’m fine. Everything is healing quickly and no harm was done today, apart from to my nerves.”

I tore a piece of bread in half, the white fibers stretching and breaking under the assault.

“What did Dad tell you about the accident?” I asked.

Leo looked at me over the rim of his glass. “Just that you had a bump on the head and seemed a little confused about what had happened. He sounded rattled, to be honest. It must have scared him to see you hurt like that, especially after Mum… Well, you know.”

I took a gulp of wine. I’d had all week to think about what had happened and still didn’t understand it. Was I going to tell Leo the truth or the anodyne version I’d stuck to with everyone else? I’d always confided in him, looked up to him when we were kids, shared with him my dream of becoming an architect. But he wouldn’t want to hear this.

And then there was that strange moving air that I could see.

“Dad says the police are trying to trace the car, but that you didn’t get a plate number, so he doubts they’ll find anything.” Leo paused. “Katie? What are you thinking about? You’ve got that million miles away look on your face.”

Of course they wouldn’t find anything, I thought.

Leo began eating with enthusiasm, apparently forgiving me for depriving him of his fish and chips.

“So until that happened, how do you think Dad was doing? Is he okay?”

I’d gone for the weekend to keep Dad company for his birthday, and ended up staying until Tuesday because of my accident. I knew Dad enjoyed seeing me. Or he had until the day after the accident. Things hadn’t gone so well after that.

“Dad’s okay. He’s gardening and writing, and hanging out with Paolo.” I paused and took a sip of wine. “And Francesca’s spending a lot of time there. I think she has a crush on him.”

Leo put his glass down. “You’re not serious.”

“Yes, really. Either Dad is totally oblivious or he’s keen on her as well. She’s been there cooking for him and now she’s eating with him too. She calls him ‘Feeleep’.”

“It could be worse, I suppose,” said Leo. “I like Francesca. She’s been very nice to us all since we were kids.”

He was right. My parents had first bought the villa as a vacation home and, whenever we visited, our neighbor Francesca would open the house up, air it out, and stock the fridge with food and milk. She always left treats, lollipops for the kids and biscotti for Mum and Dad. In the last few years, she’d lost both her son and her husband and now lived alone in a rambling villa close to my father’s.

“I like her too, but it’s too soon. Dad’s lonely, I know, but he shouldn’t hurry into another relationship.”

“He’s sensible enough not to move too fast. But some people, men anyway, need a partner. They’re just not cut out for living alone.”

“Not like you,” I said. But don’t you miss Marie sometimes? Or think about finding someone new?”

He picked up his wineglass again. “I never miss Marie. And there is someone, actually. Her name’s Olivia. I’d like you to meet her next time you’re here. She’s a psychology professor at the university. I think you’ll like her.”

Surprised, thrilled that Leo was finally showing some interest in dating, I nodded enthusiastically and was about to launch an inquisition when the phone rang.

“Aidan, get that, will you?” Leo called. There was no movement in the living room. When the ringing continued, Leo pushed his stool back, the feet scraping on the tile. I heard him pick up the phone in the hallway, followed by a murmur of voices. He came back to the kitchen looking shaken, reached for his glass and took a swallow of wine.

“That was Dad,” he said.

“Is something wrong?” I felt my heart rate rocket.

“Francesca’s dead.”

I gripped the edge of the counter with one hand to steady myself. “What?”

“She had a stroke, probably yesterday evening, and her body was discovered a few hours ago. Dad’s upset. She’d invited him over for dinner last night but he’d planned on playing chess with Paolo. Now he thinks that maybe she would have survived the stroke if he’d been there. They say the first hour is critical.”

“Shit.” I felt queasy. Francesca dead, so suddenly.

“The funeral will be next week some time,” continued Leo. “I told Dad I’d fly over with the boys. It’s half-term, so they’ll be out of school.”

There was something flickering at the edges of my brain, a memory of something that had happened with Francesca.

“Kate? Are you all right? You’re not saying anything?”

“Sorry,” I said. “Just a bit shocked, that’s all. I mean, I saw her a few days ago and she was fine.”

Francesca had come on Sunday morning with a beautiful cake to celebrate Dad’s birthday. When she realized I’d been injured, she stayed to help look after me. She’d cooked lunch, which I’d hardly touched, fussed over me and helped me wash my hair, even though the whole time, I’d been mad with her for being there, flirting with Dad, taking my mother’s place.

I took a big swallow of the fruity red wine. I didn’t recall much of the day after the accident. Dad’s friend, Paolo, the village doctor had come in to check on me, bandaged my legs and given me a couple of powerful painkillers. They’d left me woozy and light-headed. But now, suddenly, I remembered. I’d seen air swirling around Francesca’s head, fast and sinuous, just like the air over Sophie and Rebecca.

I thought back to the park that morning. Was the air still moving over Sophie when the paramedics got there? I couldn’t remember. I’d been so focused on the chest compressions and the head wound.

“You’re looking a bit green, Katie. Are you all right?”

“Not really.”

Tears welled in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. Leo put his glass down very carefully, as though it was made of the finest crystal.

“What’s going on?”

“I have to tell you something, but you need to promise me to keep an open mind.”

“Okay,” he said slowly.

“My accident. It wasn’t a hit and run. Something happened up there. And now…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Let’s go sit in my study,” he said. “It’s more comfortable.”

“All right,” I said. “Bring the wine.”

I slid into the corner of the geriatric brown couch in Leo’s study. I felt hot and a little nauseous, but I knew I had to tell Leo everything. That was just the way it was between us. He pulled his desk chair over to sit opposite me. I took a deep breath, and pulled my knees up to my chest, hugging my legs more tightly than was really comfortable. I was glad the room was dark, lit only by the lamp on Leo’s desk and a soft orange glow from a streetlight.

“On the day of the accident,” I said. “Dad and I drove up the Strada Bianca to get to the top of the hill. We wanted to look at the view, you know, as we often do. Florence is always so beautiful from up there. It was a lovely day, warm and sunny, and the air smelled of thyme and lavender. We parked the car and walked to that gap between the olive trees. You know where I mean?”

He nodded.

“Then we heard a car engine coming from the other side of the hill.”

“From the old farmhouse?”

“Yes. It was odd. I mean, the place is abandoned and the road doesn’t go anywhere.”

I shivered, remembering, recapturing every detail. The view, which usually delighted me, had made me feel wistful and melancholy. Anxious too, although I couldn’t think why. My unease had grown, together with a vague feeling that I was being watched. The leaves of the tree behind me had sighed softly in a sudden breeze, and I’d glanced back over my shoulder. There was no one there. Only waves of heat that rose from the gravel road, making the air above it shimmer.

Leo waved his hand in front of my face. “Come on, Kate. Don’t leave me hanging. What happened?”

“Okay, sorry. I went to the edge of the road, curious to see who would be driving up there. I know sometimes teenagers go to the old farmhouse but not usually in the middle of the afternoon. The engine was straining and then a silver car crested the hill. I couldn’t see the driver because the windows were heavily tinted. Like a mafia car or something. Then the car stopped a few yards away from me and the back door opened. Dad came up behind me and put his hand on my arm. I think we were both nervous.

“A woman got out. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and she was wearing a blue and white flowered dress. Leo, it was Mum.”

Leo didn’t move. He was completely still, looking at me intently. I imagined him scrutinizing his students that way, looking for signs of understanding or for a burst of brilliant insight.

“I ran forward and Mum held out her arms to hold me.”

I remembered the scent of face powder and perfume. The feel of her soft hair against my cheek.

“She told me that they had let her come back to say goodbye, and that she knew how devastating her death had been for us all. She was sorry she’d left with no warning.”

My heart pounded against my ribs. I was finding it hard to breathe.

“Kate?’

“Mum told me she loved me, and you and Dad too. And that Toby needed her. She said that he wanted me to be happy. Then she let go of me and got back into the car. I begged her to stop, to stay with us, but she blew me a kiss and pulled the door closed. The engine restarted and the car began to pull away.

“I was desperate, Leo. I grabbed hold of the door handle and tried to open the back door but it was locked. I began to jog alongside the car, banging on the window with my other hand. The wheels were spitting up jagged stones that stung my legs. Even when the car picked up speed, I ran alongside, my feet sliding along the gravel. I heard Dad shouting my name and then I fell, landing hard on my knees. My head hit the ground and I lost consciousness. When I woke up, I was in bed, with Dad and Paolo sitting there, watching me.”

The silence that followed was heavy and black, reeking of disbelief and shock, like an old musty blanket; there was nothing warm and comforting about it. The metal lamp on the desk creaked as the light bulb heated it. I heard Leo breathing, heard the monotonous drip of rain on the roof outside the window.