Above the Vaulted Sky - Page 30

            ‘So it never fades away?’ I’m scared before I can help it. The fear of that terrible place looming over me for the rest of my death.

            ‘Unless you find something that calms you,’ says Yates.

            He’s making the tea now. Two mugs lined up on the counter. He milks first and I’m a little disconcerted for a second.

            ‘How do you get all these books?’ I ask as he passes me a steaming mug.

            The porcelain is hot to touch and I have to set it down. He still walks around like I’m a chore to be here.

            ‘Here and there,’ he says. ‘I find it easy to travel to one place. The town where I was born. I can see it so clearly in my head I can go there as much as I want.’ He stirs his own tea in a disillusioned sort of manner. Staring into the swirling liquid.

            ‘If I could find Penny,’ I say. ‘I think that’d calm me.’

            ‘Some of us aren’t that lucky,’ he snaps. I see a teenager in him. He layers the words with scorn.

            ‘Sorry,’ I say.

            ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he replies.

            ‘Have you ever found any of your loved ones?’

            ‘I tried,’ he remarks. ‘Not that they’d care, or if there’s a lot of them.’

            He’s growing sadder by the second and I wonder if it’s wise to shut yourself away from the world like this. On the surface, living in a warm, lit house in the middle of nowhere with mountains of books sounds like a form of heaven. Maybe the reality is quite different.

            ‘Who’s your favourite author?’ I ask, trying to change the subject.

            ‘Oh you probably haven’t heard of him.’ He says it quickly like it’s a big secret.

            ‘Try me,’ I say moving closer, sitting down at the stool by the counter. I take a sip of tea. The warmth is the same, the spread of hot liquid from my mouth down my throat and into my chest. I feel alive.

            ‘Well,’ he starts. ‘He’s written a few. He used to be around in the eighteen-hundreds, Thacker’s his name.’

            ‘Oh, The Alchemist!’ I interrupt.

            His face darkens. ‘Yes, that’s one.’

            He goes quiet again. I don’t understand why, it’s like every time I try and find some sort of affinity with him, he puts up a barrier.

            ‘Would you mind showing me how to travel?’ I ask, trying to get something from him.

            ‘Oh that’s charming!’