Twenties Girl

“Go on.” She nods.

With trembling hands I rip it open. I peer inside at a mass of tissue paper. I push it aside and see a flash of pale iridescent yellow. I look up, straight at Sadie.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” She’s gone very white. “You’ve got it.”

I nod, just once. Then, barely knowing what I’m doing, I push back my chair.

“I just have to… make a call.” My voice is suddenly grainy. “I’ll go outside. Be back in a moment…”

I thread my way through the tables and chairs to the back of the restaurant, where there’s a small secluded courtyard. I push my way out through the fire doors and head to the far corner, then open the Jiffy bag again, pull out the mass of tissue paper, and gently unwrap it.

After all this time. I’m holding it. Just like that.

It’s warmer to the touch than I expected. More substantial, somehow. A shaft of sunlight is glinting off the rhinestones, and the beads are shimmering. It’s so stunning I have a sudden strong urge to put it on. But instead I look up at Sadie, who has been watching me silently.

“Here you are. It’s yours.” Automatically I try to put it around her neck, as though I’m giving her an Olympic medal. But my hands sink straight through her. I try again and again, even though I know it’s no use.

“I don’t know what to do!” I’m half laughing, half perilously near tears. “It’s yours! You should be wearing it! We need the ghost version-”

“Stop!” Sadie’s voice rises in sudden tension. “Don’t…” She breaks off and moves away from me, her eyes fixed on the paving slabs of the courtyard. “You know what you have to do.”

There’s silence apart from the steady roar of Kilburn traffic coming from the main road. I can’t look at Sadie. I’m just standing clutching the necklace. I know this is what we’ve been chasing and hunting and wishing for. But now we have it… I don’t want to have arrived here. Not yet. The necklace is the reason Sadie’s been haunting me. When she gets it back-

My thoughts abruptly veer away. I don’t want to think about that. I don’t want to think about any of it.

A breeze rustles some leaves on the ground, and Sadie looks up, pale and resolute.

“Give me some time.”

“Yes.” I swallow. “Sure.” I stuff the necklace into the bag and head back into the restaurant. Sadie has already disappeared.

I can’t eat my pizza. I can’t make proper conversation. I can’t focus when I get back to the office, even though six more calls come in from blue-chip HR managers wanting to set up meetings with me. The Jiffy bag is on my lap; my hand is clutching the necklace tightly inside it and I can’t let go.

I text Ed, saying I have a headache and need to be alone. When I get home, there’s no Sadie, which doesn’t surprise me. I make some supper, which I don’t eat, then sit in bed with the necklace around my neck, twisting the beads and watching old movies on TCM and not even bothering to try to sleep. At last, at about five-thirty, I get up, put on some clothes, and head out. The soft gray of the dawn is tinged with a vivid pink-red sunrise. I stand still, gazing at the red streaks in the sky for a few moments, and in spite of everything feel my spirits lifting. Then I buy a coffee from a café, get on a bus, and head to Waterloo, staring blankly out as the bus trundles through the streets. By the time I arrive it’s nearer six-thirty. People are starting to appear on the bridge and in the streets. The London Portrait Gallery is still shut up, though. Locked and empty; not a soul inside. That’s what you’d think, anyway.

I find a nearby wall, sit down, and sip my coffee, which is lukewarm but delicious on an empty stomach. I’m prepared to sit there all day, but as a nearby church bell strikes eight, she appears on the steps, that dreamy look on her face again. She’s wearing yet another amazing dress, this one in pearl gray with a tulle skirt cut in petal shapes. A gray cloche is pulled down over her head, and her eyes are lowered. I don’t want to alarm her, so I wait until she notices me and starts in surprise.

“Lara.”

“Hi.” I lift a hand. “Thought you’d be here.”

“Where’s my necklace?” Her voice is sharp with alarm. “Have you lost it?”

“No! Don’t worry. I’ve got it. It’s OK. It’s right here. Look.”

There’s no one around, but I glance right and left, just in case. Then I pull out the necklace. In the clear morning light, it looks more spectacular than ever. I let it run over my hands and the beads click gently together. She gazes down at it lovingly, puts out her hands as though to take it, then draws them back.